


baby kiss it better

by complicationstoo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Meetings, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, and they were ROOMMATES, roommates to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25520407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complicationstoo/pseuds/complicationstoo
Summary: Tony's still reeling from his break up with Steve when he starts his freshman year at MIT. Maybe that's why he doesn't notice he's fallen in love with his roommate until it's already happened.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship
Comments: 222
Kudos: 577





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is inspired by the Taylor Swift songs cardigan, betty, and august :)

Tony practically collapses onto his bed the second the door to his dorm room closes behind the man his parents hired to help him move in. He sits on the bare mattress, surrounded by boxes and bags of his things, longing for the millionth time in his life for the power to fast forward through time and end up at some point when the work is already done for him. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he tries not to feel the familiar disappointment at the lack of anything there. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, anyway. It’s not like he’s heard from Steve in months, not since the goodbye that left him broken. 

He heaves himself from the bed after a few minutes of staring at the blank screen. His roommate hasn’t shown up yet, and it might be a good thing to be the first to settle in.

Tony sighs as he opens the first box and finds Steve’s old sweater right on top. He isn’t quite sure why he even brought it with him, or why he didn’t burn it in a fire like Pepper and Rhodey vehemently recommended, but he isn’t pathetic enough to let himself wallow in self-pity right now. He’ll save that for later, in the dark of the night when he can’t sleep. For now, he pushes the box to the side, continues opening boxes until he finds the one with his sheets. After the bed is covered, he works on sorting his clothes into drawers and onto hangers. 

Working quickly, his closet fills while he forces his mind to focus all his attention on emptying boxes. The door to the dorm opens as he’s kicking the box of Steve’s things under his bed - the last box with anything left in it. 

“Yeah, I know, Ma,” a dark-haired boy says into the phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he walks into the room. He drops a stack of boxes on the floor just inside the doorway. “I’m fine, I promise. No, you don’t have to do that. I’m already here, Ma.”

He looks up and meets Tony’s eye, a tight smile flashing on his face for just a moment before he’s back to his phone call. “I know. I’ll talk to you later.”

The boy runs his hand through his hair, and Tony tries not to look at the flash of his stomach as his t-shirt rides up. “I love you, too, Ma.”

Tony sits down on the edge of his bed and pretends to be rearranging the items on his nightstand as he waits for the boy to hang up and introduce himself. It takes another minute and several more attempts at saying goodbye before it happens. 

“Um, hi there,” the boy says, waving a little awkwardly when Tony looks over at him. “I’m Bucky. Guess I’m your roommate.”

Tony stands and crosses the short distance between them. He sticks out his hand, and Bucky looks at it with an amused smile before taking it in his own to shake. 

“Tony.”

“Nice to meet you, Tony.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

Bucky points over his shoulder with his thumb at the door. “I’ve got some more things to grab. Any chance you’d be willing to help me out with that? I’ll take the first turn cleaning the bathroom as a thanks?” 

Tony nods and follows Bucky out into the hall. 

“So where are you from?” Bucky asks. 

“New York.”

“Shit, really? Me too,” Bucky says. “Brooklyn.”

“Upstate.” 

They walk down the two flights of stairs to the parking lot, and Bucky asks, “What’s your major?”

“Electrical engineering.”

Bucky nods, “I’m doing computer science I think. I might change it later, though. Maybe mechanical engineering instead.”

Tony makes a small sound of acknowledgement and risks an assessing glance at his new roommate. Bucky walks with his hands in his pockets, and an air of confidence surrounds him. His shirt clings to his clearly toned chest, sleeves ending just after the shoulder to show off well-defined biceps. He’s the kind of handsome that’s almost pretty, with sharp cheekbones and steely blue eyes. His hair is on the longer side, brown locks tucked behind his eyes and falling a little above his chin. Tony looks away before it can be considered staring.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” Bucky questions as they cross the parking lot to wherever his car is. 

Tony feels his cheeks turn pink. He’ll blame it on the sun.

“I guess not.”

“That’s alright,” Bucky says. Jokingly he adds, “Can’t annoy me if you’re never talking, right?”

Tony cracks a smile. “That’s true.”

Bucky stops in front of a black SUV and opens the trunk, revealing the cardboard boxes of his things. He fills the silence yet again, so naturally that Tony can’t help but feel a little jealous. “It’s just a rental so I could move here. I think I drove more today than I have the rest of my life. Do you have a car on campus?”

“No, my parents dropped me off,” Tony lies, thinking of the driver they hired to carry his boxes for him while they hardly bothered with a goodbye that morning. Bucky doesn’t need to know him like that. Not now, maybe not ever.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Bucky says. He reaches for a couple of boxes and passes them to Tony, saying, “Here, these are light. I won’t make you carry any books.”

Tony takes them and stands to the side while Bucky takes four in his own arms. The trunk empty, Bucky glances between the boxes and the door, as if realizing that he can’t close it with his arms full. Tony shifts his stack to one arm and reaches for it.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They turn back for the building, and Bucky starts up again, “My ma wanted to drive me herself, but she had to work this morning, and then my little sister has a piano recital tonight that I know she would hate to miss. I kept telling her I was fine driving myself, but she still called every twenty minutes to make sure I hadn’t crashed the car yet. She’ll probably call at least ten more times tonight, so I guess I should warn you about it now.”

On the stairs, Tony tries to think of something to say to that, but comes up short. Bucky seems to be okay with doing all the talking, though. 

“Do you have any siblings?”

Tony shakes his head, “Only child.”

“I miss those days,” Bucky says wistfully. Though he quickly follows with, “I’m kidding. My sisters are great. I’ll miss ‘em a lot. Your parents are probably gonna miss you like crazy, though. My mom was a mess and she’s still got three kids left at home.”

“Um, yeah, I’m sure they will.”

A beat of silence, then Bucky asks, “So do you have any friends in Boston? Most of mine stayed in New York.”

“One, yeah. She lives across campus.”

“She?” Bucky repeats. “Your girlfriend?”

“What? No, Pepper’s just a friend. I’ve known her since we were kids.”

Bucky nods, “So where does your girlfriend go, then?” 

“I don’t have one.”

“Boyfriend?”

Tony’s chest tightens. “Not anymore.”

“Oh?” Bucky pushes open the door at the top of the stairs with his shoulder and holds it open for him. “What’s the story there?”

Tony shrugs, faking being casual as if it doesn’t still hurt, “He was leaving for college out west, and he thought it would be better to break up now instead of later.”

Bucky watches his face closely as he talks, expression giving nothing away. It’s a statement rather than a question when he says, “You didn’t agree.”

Tony reaches the door to their dorm first and pulls the key from his pocket. Unlocking it, he steps inside and sets the boxes next to the others from before. 

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Tony says, sitting back down on his small bed. He picks absentmindedly at a loose thread on his sheets. “Only one person has to want out for a relationship to end.”

Bucky nods slowly, setting one of the boxes down on his own bed and opening the flaps. His back is to Tony as he sorts through the contents. “How long were you together?”

“Two years.”

Bucky pauses with a t-shirt hanging from his hand and looks over his shoulder at him. “And he ended it like that? Didn’t even want to try to make it work?”

“Guess not. He broke up with me in June,” Tony swallows around the lump in his throat. “A week after graduation.”

Raising an eyebrow, Bucky says, “That’s cold.”

It was cold, Tony remembers. Impersonal, even, when Steve told him it was over. Two years to build a relationship, only twenty seconds to end it all. 

“Why waste an entire summer being tied down when you know you’re just going to end it anyway?” Tony replies cynically. “He said it would be better for both of us.”

“And was it?”

Tony shrugs again, “Better for him, sure. He moved on fast.”

Memories he’d been trying to suffocate for weeks surface again. He heard it from Pepper first, about the girl she saw in Steve’s car, sitting in the seat that he thought belonged to him. A week later he saw it for himself, at the cafe they used to frequent together. Her hand was in his, and Tony couldn’t stop wondering if it fit there as well as his own once did. 

“Well, fuck that guy, then,” Bucky says easily. 

Tony snorts, “I did. That’s the problem.” 

Bucky laughs, “Yeah, okay. But what I’m trying to say is that if he moved on so fast, then you’re probably better off without him, anyway, right?”

“Maybe,” Tony says. He’s heard the same thing from Pepper already. It didn’t help then, either.

“Definitely. He sounds like an asshole.”

Tony bristles a little. “He wasn’t. He was good to me.”

“You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave without a fight,” Bucky says, reaching for another box.

“You just met me,” Tony says. “You don’t know what I deserve.”

“Everyone deserves that, don’t you think?” Bucky turns around, facing him again. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask for someone that thinks you’re worth staying for.”

It’s a conversation Tony doesn’t really want to have, so he says, “Shouldn’t we be talking about roommate stuff? You know, class schedules, rules about leaving clothes on the floor. Those kinds of things.”

Bucky chuckles as he shakes his head. Turning back to the boxes, he says, “I’ve got classes Monday through Thursday. No eight am’s, because I don’t hate myself, so you don’t have to worry too much about my alarm waking you up. I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave your clothes on the floor, but if you’re going to do it keep them on your own side at least. Let’s see, what else?” A brief pause, then he continues, “I don’t care much if you’ve got friends over, as long as you let me know about it. That goes for hookups, too, if you’re into that kind of thing. I’d really rather not walk in on that, but I don’t mind going somewhere else for awhile if you need some privacy.”

“I, uh, I’m not into that kind of thing,” Tony says, cheeks warming again. “But same here, I guess, if you are. No eight am’s either, and I’ll do my best to keep my clothes to this side.”

“Great,” Bucky smiles. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first few weeks of classes go by quickly. Bucky establishes a routine within two days, starting with a morning run after he naturally wakes up with the sun, and ending with him asleep before midnight. Meanwhile, Tony sleeps through his first class of week one and always falls asleep with three digits on the clock. Somehow, it works, though. They’re not quite friends yet, but it’s a near thing. Friends adjacent, perhaps.

It started on day three, when Bucky came back from his morning run with two cups of coffee and wordlessly put one of them on Tony’s nightstand. Tony was half-asleep when he reached for it, but woke all the way up after the first sip when he realized that it was exactly his order. He didn’t remember ever telling Bucky that, so he must have noticed on his own. Tony vowed to repay him for it, and just like that they slipped into a routine of their own. Bucky brings the coffee in the morning, and Tony comes home from his classes with one of Bucky’s favorite snacks from the small convenience store down the street. Neither of them mention it, and maybe that’s part of the routine, too. 

It’s week four when it breaks for the first time.

Tony wakes up to light streaming in through the blinds covering their small window and reaches out his hand, blindly searching for the coffee cup. He frowns when he comes up empty and finally opens his eyes. The nightstand is barren, and Bucky is still in bed a few feet away. A glance at the clock confirms that he should have been up over an hour ago, even if it is a Saturday. It gives him a jolt of anxiety that something’s wrong. 

He tosses off the covers and rises from the bed, crossing over to Bucky’s side. Standing in front of Bucky’s bed, he watches the rise and fall of his breathing while he contemplates waking him up. Bucky’s curled into a small ball, head buried in his pillow and hair falling over his eyes. Like this, his large frame takes up just a fraction of the bed. 

Gently, he puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and shakes. When that doesn’t work, he shakes a little harder. 

Bucky wakes with a groan, and Tony instantly feels bad about disrupting him. Rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, Bucky rolls onto his back to look up at him. 

“What’s the matter?” Bucky asks, voice gravelly from sleep. He’s always awake before Tony, and it’s the first time he’s heard the other man like this. It makes something in his chest ache, but he doesn’t dwell on the feeling. 

Tony rubs the back of his neck, feeling incredibly awkward, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you up. It’s just, um, you’re usually awake by now.”

Bucky lifts his head and glances towards the window, as if noticing the sunlight for the first time. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He turns back to Tony with a grin, “Missed your coffee, huh?”

“Oh, no, I just -” Tony stammers with wide eyes, “I thought maybe something was wrong. Like you were sick or something. But I guess I shouldn’t have woken you up for that either. Sorry, I’ll let you go back to sleep, just ignore me please.”

Bucky laughs, “Relax, Tony. It’s fine.” 

He still feels bad, despite the reassurance, and he knows his entire face is a vibrant shade of red. 

“Come on,” Bucky says, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and leaving the blanket in a pile beside him. Tony realizes as he stands that they’re both dressed in just their pajama pants, mere inches apart. Their height difference means Tony gets a close up view of Bucky’s bare chest, and he swallows hard while trying not to stare. Bucky steps around him, seemingly unaware of Tony’s distraction as he opens the top drawer of his dresser, and says, “Let’s go out for breakfast since we’re both up at the same time for once.”

Bucky slips on a clean t-shirt and shamelessly strips off his pants. Tony turns away instantly and goes for his own clothes. He grabs for items at random, taking them into the bathroom to change. Bucky knocks while he’s brushing his teeth, and Tony lets him in so he can do the same. 

They’re out the door in less than ten minutes, and without ever discussing it, they end up at the diner two blocks from their dorm. The waitress comes and goes to take their orders, bringing coffee at the same time, and Tony inhales half of his cup in one long drink. He puts it down and looks up to Bucky already looking at him, a strange smile playing on his lips.

“What?” he asks, feeling self-conscious. He quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, just in case.

“I have never seen anyone drink as much coffee as you. I mean there’s gotta be some kind of record there.”

“Well, I always aim to impress,” Tony replies. 

Bucky hums, watching his spoon as he stirs sugar into his own coffee cup, “You certainly succeed.”

After a beat of silence, Tony decides to make an attempt at conversation, “So, how have your classes been?”

Bucky shrugs, “Not a whole lot to report there. They’re kind of boring.”

“Yeah, same here,” Tony nods. He racks his brain for something to talk about, but there’s nothing there. It makes him long for the time when he didn’t need to make small talk, didn’t have to ask the get-to-know-you’s because he was already known by someone. Small talk has always been the bane of his existence, and now it just makes him ache for Steve all over again.

Bucky, blissfully unaware of Tony’s inner monologue, says, “So did you get that paper done for your history class yet?”

“You remember that?” Tony asks, surprised. He only mentioned it in passing, during a rant two weeks ago about the terrible morning he had that day, and he didn’t think Bucky was paying attention.

“Yeah, it’s something about World War I, right?”

Tony nods, “Effects of technology on the war. Haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, “Isn’t it due in a few days?”

“Um, Thursday, I think.”

After a moment of consideration, Bucky asks, “Wanna come with me to the library tomorrow? You can work on that, and I can get started on a paper of my own. Some time in the afternoon, obviously. Wouldn’t dare interrupt your beauty sleep.” Bucky winks, flustering Tony with just a simple gesture.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” Tony aims for normal, maybe an edge of flirty to match Bucky’s tone when he adds, “But I don’t need beauty sleep to look like this.” He gestures down at his body, which is nowhere near as toned as Bucky’s, but it’s nothing to scoff at, either. 

Bucky follows the path of Tony’s hand with his eyes, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile, “Of course not.”

Tony grins in satisfaction, and it turns out that once he’s started, the conversation is easy after that. Talking to Bucky feels natural, falling into banter and smartass remarks as though they’ve been doing it all along. And he supposes they have been, just in smaller doses. 

Bucky tells him more about his little sisters, and in turn Tony talks about Pepper, who might as well be his sister at this point, and Rhodey, who shipped out for the Air Force basic training not long after high school graduation. They’ve been friends since middle school, when Tony moved upstate from Manhattan and was terrified that he’d never be able to make any friends at his new school. But Pepper sat down next to him at lunch on his first day, and Tony was ready to apologize for sitting at what must have been her table when Rhodey sat down on his other side and started talking to him like they were already friends. 

Steve came into the picture a few years after that, though Tony doesn’t mention him to Bucky. Rhodey was the one to introduce them to each other officially, after Tony casually mentioned to him that he thought the captain of the football team was cute. It took just a few days for Steve to become a fixture at their lunch table after that, slotting himself into Tony’s life just as easily as he left it.

They’re almost finished with breakfast when Bucky asks, “Hey, can I ask you a personal question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna.”

“Go for it.”

“You don’t talk about your family.”

“That’s not a question.”

Bucky carries on anyway, “And I’ve never seen you on the phone with them, either. It’s like you don’t talk to them at all.”

“Also not a question.”

“What’s up with that?”

Tony drains the last of his coffee and says, “Sorry, Buckaroo, but you have to be at least a level five friend to unlock that part of my backstory.”

Bucky laughs, “What level am I at now?”

“You started this morning at level one, but I’d say you’re well on your way to level two now.”

“Level one? I bring you coffee every day, and I’m only at level one?” 

“But very close to level two,” Tony says, trying to keep the grin off his face at Bucky’s offense. “You should be honored, really. No one moves up that quickly.”

The waitress comes back to clear their plates and drop off the bill, and Tony uses Bucky’s distraction to grab it before it can become a thing. She’s already taken Tony’s credit card when Bucky realizes and gives a futile protest.

“You can’t pay for breakfast when I’m the one that asked you to come. How am I going to move up to level two like this?”

Tony laughs, “You know that was a joke, right? There’s no levels.”

“Oh, no,” Bucky says. “We’re taking this seriously now. I’m making it to level five. Is that the max? Whatever the max is, that’s where I’m making it to.”

Tony smiles and shakes his head, “Have fun with that.”

“Becoming your friend? I think I will.”

Tony’s heart falters in his chest for a moment at the sincerity of it. He has to look away, and thankfully the waitress comes back to return his card before he has to respond.

On the way back to their dorm, Bucky says, “So I was thinking that we should start doing something every Saturday, since we’re both free.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

“Well, yeah,” Bucky says. “But this was an accident, and it should be a thing. A you and me thing.”

“A you and me thing,” Tony repeats slowly, processing the words as they pass through his lips. 

“I’m trying to move up to level three,” Bucky grins, bumping Tony’s hip with his. “Hey, what did level two unlock?”

Tony plays along, “Ages ten through thirteen.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “Were those an interesting three years for you?”

“Not at all, but did you really expect level two to come with all the perks already?”

Bucky frowns, “I feel cheated. I want more.”

Tony shrugs, but internally he’s so pleased with the morning that his insides feel melted, “Guess you’ll have to work harder for level three. No one said I was easy.”

“Nope,” Bucky sighs, a soft smile on his face. “But you’re worth it.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that's subscribed to this!

“If you bounce that ball one more time, I’m going to kill you,” Tony threatens. He glares at Bucky from where he sits on his bed, attempting to study. 

Bucky catches the tennis ball with one hand, then throws it back at the wall. His head is dangling off the edge of the bed, and his knees are bent so his feet are on the wall. The ball hits the spot just above his right foot, and he catches it easily as it falls back. 

“So do it then.”

Tony huffs, “You are officially the worst roommate in the history of roommates.”

“Liar. I’m a level three friend.”

“No, you’re not,” Tony argues. “You’re barely a level two.”

“What?” Bucky stops throwing the ball, twisting onto his side to look at Tony. His hair falls into his face, and he blows at it to get it out of his eyes. “I’m at least close to three.”

“You lost a point every time you threw that ball.”

“There’s points now? Since when has there been a points system?”

Tony shrugs, “Since now.”

“That’s not fair,” Bucky whines, sounding unnecessarily put out. “You can’t just make up rules.”

“The whole thing is made up,” Tony laughs. “It didn’t exist until last week.”

Bucky quite literally rolls out of bed, landing on the floor in a squat. He stands up and grabs his backpack to rummage through it. 

“What are you doing?”

Bucky holds up a notebook, then crosses the small room to take the pen right from Tony’s hand. Tony makes a noise of protest, which Bucky disregards. 

“We are writing the rules, so you can’t change them,” Bucky says. Flipping through the notebook, Bucky finds a clean page, then clicks Tony’s pen. “First, though, we’re defining the levels. Then, apparently, we’re making a points system.”

“You are taking this way too seriously,” Tony says. Secretly, though, he’s pleased by how much Bucky seems to care. How much he actually wants to be Tony’s friend. 

“Or,” Bucky starts, flopping back down onto his bed, “are you not taking this seriously enough?”

“No, you’re definitely too serious. But whatever. Let’s do it.”

Tony slides the history textbook off his lap and joins Bucky on his bed. Bucky’s body has created an indent in the bed, sloping the mattress towards him, and Tony accidentally falls into it. He ends up closer than he intended, almost falling on top of him, but catches himself so only their arms are touching instead. They’re connected from shoulder to elbow, Bucky’s skin warm against his.

Tony pulls his knees up to his chest, hugging them to himself closely, like he’s afraid to touch too much.

“Level one,” Bucky says, writing it as he speaks. Tony watches the smooth glide of the pen on paper. “What’s level one for you?”

“Level ones get nothing.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “Nothing at all? I was a level one for four weeks, and I got a lot more than nothing.”

“You were a level one with an asterisk. Special situation - forced proximity.”

Bucky doesn’t speak, which prompts Tony to look at him. His blue eyes seem darker this close, with flecks of gray mixed in. Tony’s never noticed that before.

“What?”

“We’re adding asterisks now? Really?”

“Yes, it’s a special situation. Normal level ones don’t have to live with me.”

Bucky adds an asterisk to his level one, then underlines the entire phrase. Beneath it, he adds a bullet point.

“Okay, fine, what do asterisked level ones get?”

Tony has to think about it for a second, then he says, “Redacted backstory. Minor details only. No stories over two minutes long.”

Bucky writes it down without comment, minus a quiet hum of acknowledgement. At the bottom of the bulleted list he adds,  _ privilege of bringing Tony coffee in the morning.  _

“You’re right, it is a privilege,” Tony grins, even though he can tell that it was more sarcastic than anything. Well, he thinks it is, until Bucky sincerely says, “I like seeing your face when you notice it’s there.”

Tony skates over that by stating, “Level two.”

“Ages ten through thirteen,” Bucky says, writing it on the list. “That can’t be all.”

“What else do you want?”

Bucky taps the pen against his chin. “Nickname rights.”

“Nickname rights?”

“Yeah, buttercup, I get to call you nicknames.”

Tony grows red at the name, turning his head in a vain attempt to hide it from Bucky. Mumbling, he consents, “Fine, you can have nickname rights.”

“Thank you, doll.”

Tony groans, then amends, “You only get five, though. Choose the remaining three wisely.”

Underneath the nicknames line, Bucky starts a sublist for the ones he’s chosen, with buttercup and doll at the top. He adds three more dashes and leaves them blank for now.

“That’s enough for level two,” Tony quickly says. “Level three.”

“Level three gets ten nicknames.”

“Can you even think of ten?”

“Course I can, sugar,” Bucky winks. 

Tony sighs, willing the blush not to grow even stronger, “You can have ages fourteen to seventeen.”

Bucky grins devilishly, “So the juicy stuff? You gonna tell me ‘bout your first kiss?”

“No, I was thirteen for that,” Tony rolls his eyes. “But you might get to hear about the time I took my dad’s car for a joy ride way before I learned how to actually drive stick.” 

“Oh, damn. How did he not kill you for that?”

Tony shrugs, “I fixed it before he noticed I broke it.”

“You can do that?” Bucky asks, looking impressed.

“You’ll have to wait for level three to find out.”

Bucky shakes his head with a smile, “Fuckin’ tease.”

“Always, darling,” Tony replies. He figures if Bucky gets to nickname, he does, too.

Bucky throws him for a loop when he asks, “So when do I unlock cuddling rights? You look like a good cuddler, and I want in.”

“Uh, what?” Tony sputters.

“You’re small, and you’re always warm.”

“Excuse you, I am not small.”

“You’re tiny,” Bucky says, smiling. “Tiny Tony.”

Tony narrows his eyes at him. “You’re a level one again.”

“What? No,” Bucky starts pouting immediately. “It’s a compliment.”

“Level one,” Tony repeats, crossing his arms over his chest. “No more nicknames for you.”

Bucky puts his chin on Tony’s shoulder, bottom lip sticking out in a way that should make him seem childish, but only serves to weaken Tony’s resolve. It crumbles completely when Bucky softly says, “Please.”

There’s no specific request attached to it, but Tony catches the meaning anyway. He drops his arms and sighs, “You can be a level two again, but now cuddling rights are reserved for level four and up.” 

Bucky goes back to the list, but he doesn’t move his head other than adjust it to a more comfortable position on Tony’s shoulder. Tony shoves him off, saying, “That’s too close to cuddling, and you haven’t earned that right yet. You only get five second or less hugs at level two.”

“I get hugs? Nice.” Bucky goes back up to the level two section, adding the part about hugging rights. 

“If you’d stop getting yourself demoted, you’d probably get more.”

Bucky ignores the snarky comment. “Does level three get longer hugs?” He pauses then muses, “How long does a hug have to be to count as cuddling?”

“Level three can have ten seconds, I guess. And anything more than fifteen is cuddling.”

“Why fifteen?”

“Because it’s weird after fifteen.”

Bucky hums, seemingly in agreement. He reads over the list out loud, “So, level three gets ten nicknames, ages fourteen through seventeen, and ten second or less hugs. Is that it?”

“You may also steal food off my plate without asking at that point.”

“You’re  _ so  _ going to regret that,” Bucky smiles. 

Tony shrugs, “Your chances of making it to level three are low enough to risk it.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky laughs. “I’ll be there by the end of the day, guaranteed. And I’m gonna abuse the hell out of my new privileges.”

“Abuse of privileges should cost points,” Tony says. He taps his finger on the notebook, “Write that down. No abusing privileges.”

“That’s too subjective. Rules can’t be subjective,” Bucky argues.

“Oh my God,” Tony groans. “Can we finish the levels and then debate the rules?”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” Bucky mutters under his breath. “What does level four get?”

Across the room, above his own bed, are a few pictures of Tony’s friends, taped haphazardly to the wall. He stares absentmindedly at them while he thinks. 

“Level four can hear my existential crises. They happen about once a month.”

Bucky starts to write, editorializing as he narrates, “Ramblings about future.”

“Anything else you want? Anything below ten years old is getting saved for level five, so that’s out.”

“Hm,” Bucky takes a moment, “Can you braid hair? My sisters used to do it sometimes, and I kinda miss it.”

Tony smiles, “Yeah, I can, actually. Pepper can’t do it herself. It’s her one flaw.”

“Perfect.”

It gets added to the list, with a smiley face drawn at the end of the line, and Tony laughs, “No french braiding until level five, though. My skills are too valuable to give them up that soon.” 

“Thought you said I wasn’t even making it to level three,” Bucky smirks.

“Oh, you’re not. You’ll be back to level one shortly, I’m sure.”

“Whatever, sweetheart,” Bucky says with a roll of his eyes. Tony had forgotten about the nicknames somehow, and that one catches him unpleasantly by surprise, making him stiffen. 

“So does level five get the unredacted backstory? If level one is redacted, then level five really should get unredacted.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony mumbles, only half-listening. 

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together, confused by the change in Tony’s demeanor and tone. “Something wrong?”

“I, uh, just don’t like that one very much,” Tony says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Bucky looks more confused, though, clearly not following. “What one?”

“The nickname. The others are - they’re fine. Just not that one, okay?”

Bucky’s look softens, and he puts his hand on Tony’s knee, squeezing lightly. Tony’s grateful when instead of asking about it, Bucky jokes, “Guess I’ll have to wait until level five for the story for that, huh?”

“Technically it’s in ages fourteen to seventeen,” Tony cracks a smile that widens when he adds, “But you’re never reaching level three anyway.”

“You know you’re just making me more determined every time you say it, right?”

“I look forward to watching you fail,” Tony replies easily, and just like the tightness in his chest has faded away again.

Bucky glares, then says, “Let’s just move onto the points system, shall we?”

“Do we really need a points system? Seems too hard to manage.”

“But how do I know when I’ve reached the next level?”

“When I subjectively decide it.”

“Ugh, fine,” Bucky gives in quickly. “But no more demoting me.”

“I will, as soon as you stop deserving demotions.”

Bucky scoffs, “You can’t demote me for being annoying. I’m always annoying.”

“And self-aware. I like that in a man,” Tony jokes. 

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky grins. “What else do you like about me?”

“Nothing. It ends there.”

Bucky clearly doesn’t buy it (and he shouldn’t). His grin grows instead, and his arm ends up around Tony’s shoulders. “Lying again I see. We both know you adore me.”

“I tolerate you,” Tony says. He spots the ball that started this whole conversation lying abandoned next to Bucky’s thigh and adds, “And I’m stabbing that tennis ball.”

Bucky laughs, taking his arm off Tony’s shoulders to bump him with his own shoulder instead, “How about I quiz you to make it up to you? We can make flashcards.”

“Alright, but I’m writing them. Your handwriting sucks,” Tony says, pointing to the notebook as evidence.

“Mine sucks? Honey, yours is illegible. It looks like a blind chicken takes your notes.”

Tony laughs, not even bothering with a retort as he gets up from Bucky’s bed to retrieve his textbook. He’d care more if Bucky were wrong, but he really isn’t. 

Turning around, Tony sees Bucky standing on his bed and tearing the page with the levels from the notebook. 

“What are you doing?”

In lieu of a real answer, Bucky gestures toward Tony’s desk and asks, “Can you hand me some tape?”

Tony grabs the tape dispenser and holds it while Bucky cuts a piece on the sharp edge. He tapes the four corners of the paper to the wall, then takes a step back, as if admiring his work. 

“There,” he says, arms spread wide. “Can’t forget ‘em now.”

Tony looks between Bucky’s satisfied smile and the taped up list, and he has to actively fight the urge to grin. He fails, though, as the corners of his mouth inch upwards, and Bucky takes quick notice.

“I know you love it.”

It’s stupid, Tony realizes. The levels themselves are stupid, born from a joke that wasn’t all that funny to begin with. Creating the actual list was stupid, and it’s even stupider to keep it on the wall. But Bucky’s absolutely right. 

He loves all of it.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s far too early in the morning when Pepper drags him to the dining hall with her. Tony refused at first, complaining about being awake before 9 am, but she guilt tripped him by reminding him that it had been over a week since they last saw each other. So he lets her thread her arm through his and pull him along the campus sidewalks, even though he’s still half-asleep and feeling more like a zombie than a person. 

Pepper talks rapidly in his ear, venting about one of her classes and her apparently horrible professor, and he manages to catch every third word. She knows, though, that he’s not really following any of it, and it’s fine by her. Advice has never been Tony’s strong suit, so she talks while Tony attempts to listen, and by the end of it she’s aired her grievances and doesn’t have to listen to anyone trying to give her advice she didn’t ask for in the first place. It’s the perfect arrangement, really.

“Can you believe that?” Pepper asks when she reaches the end, taking a long breath like she had been running out of air. 

Tony makes a noise of acknowledgement as he rubs his eyes, another attempt at waking himself up, and yawns. Pepper notices, because she notices everything.

“Why are you so tired?” she asks, then amends, “I mean, you’re always tired, but usually not this much.”

“Stayed up late.”

Pepper gives him a look that says  _ obviously _ , so he adds, “Working on something new. Not going very well.”

“What is it?”

“A learning bot,” he answers. “Or it would be, if I could get the stupid code to cooperate.”

Pepper squeezes his arms reassuringly, “You’ll figure it out.” 

“Sure,” Tony says, even though he isn’t actually sure of it at all. 

They’ve reached the dining hall now, and Pepper lets go of his arm to reach for the door. She orders more food than necessary while Tony trails behind her like a shadow. He doesn’t get anything for himself, but that’s what the extra food is for. After years of claiming not to be hungry and then stealing food from her and Rhodey, she’s learned just to get extra. 

He fills two cups with coffee, already disappointed with how watered down it looks, and mixes sugar into one of them. Pepper steals his wallet from his back pocket and pays for their food with his card. She used to hate doing that, but now she recognizes that it’s a losing battle to try to pay for herself. 

The dining hall is a little crowded, and they scan the room looking for an empty table. Instead, Tony spots Bucky sitting at a round table near the wall with two other people Tony’s never seen before. Bucky looks up at just the right time to make eye contact, lifting his hand in a wave. 

“Who’s that?”

“My roommate.” 

Pepper gapes, “Your roommate looks like that, and you didn’t think to introduce me? And here I thought we were friends.”

Tony rolls his eyes and starts walking toward the table Bucky and his friends are occupying. He hesitates when he actually reaches it, unsure how welcome he is despite the friendship they’ve been building, but Bucky puts that line of thinking to bed quickly. 

“Hey, sunshine,” Bucky smiles, pulling out the chair next to him. “You’re up awfully early.”

Tony sits, setting the coffees down on the table. There are two more empty chairs in the circle, and Pepper slides into one, Bucky between them. He nods toward her and says, “She made me do it, because she’s the devil incarnate.”

“ _ She  _ is the only reason you haven’t died of starvation yet,” Pepper retorts. She turns to Bucky, all business as she asks, “Have you been remembering to water and feed him every day?”

Bucky laughs, “I take it you’re Pepper. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yeah? He better not have told you about the summer before junior year, or I will kill him,” Pepper says, throwing a threatening glare Tony’s way.

“Oh, no, I haven’t unlocked those years yet.”

Pepper frowns, a question on her lips as Tony turns toward the other two at the table and interrupts, “Anyway, hi, I’m Tony. I’m Bucky’s roommate.”

The guy reaches out a hand that Tony shakes quickly. His grip is firm, but not overly so. “I’m Sam. This is my girlfriend, Natasha.”

The girl - Natasha - doesn’t offer her hand, so neither does Tony. She gives him a slight nod of her head, barely an acknowledgement, that he returns in kind.

“Nat and I have Russian I together,” Bucky says. 

“You’re taking Russian?” Tony asks. “Why?”

Bucky shrugs, “Why not? It’s good for a gen ed, and it’s better than a lot of the other shit this place offers. I mean, Paradox and Infinity? What kind of class is that supposed to be?”

Tony hums his agreement and reaches across Bucky to grab a strip of bacon off of Pepper’s tray. He washes it down with a sip of coffee and grimaces at the taste.

“No good?” Bucky laughs. “Have I spoiled you too much with the good stuff?”

Tony pushes the coffee to the side with a frown, “Tastes like someone used a dirty sock as a coffee filter.”

Bucky takes the discarded cup and drinks from it, then winces. “Yeah, that’s nasty. We’ll go to that place on Main later.”

“Ooh, keep talking like that and you’ll be a level three in no time, darling.”

Pepper, who has been silently observing their interaction with calculating eyes since it began, interjects to say, “So, Bucky, tell me about you.”

“No interrogations, Pepper,” Tony warns, swiping another strip of bacon. To Bucky, he says, “She’s a little overprotective.”

“It’s not an interrogation. It’s normal conversation,” Pepper says. “And it’s not overprotective to make sure that your roommate isn’t crazy.”

“It’s alright, doll. She can interrogate me if she wants,” Bucky grins. He points with his thumb at a small empty table at the back of the room. “We could go over there, even. Just get it all out now.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters, running a hand down his face. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nah, it sounds fun now,” Bucky replies, standing from his seat. “Let’s do this.”

Pepper smiles and rises from the table as well. “I will say that you’re off to an excellent start.”

They start walking away, and Tony calls out after them, “Don’t tell him anything from high school! He doesn’t have those privileges yet!”

Bucky looks over his shoulder and laughs, “Doesn’t count if it’s not from you.”

Once they’re gone, Tony belatedly realizes that he’s now left with two strangers and no idea of what to say to them. Before the silence can get too awkward, Tony asks, “Are you guys freshmen, too?”

“Sophomores,” Sam says. “But it’s technically my first year here. I just transferred from Stanford.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “You chose winter in Boston over California?” 

Sam looks at Natasha with a lovestruck smile, “I’d take the cold over long distance any day of the week.”

“He says that now, but just wait until the first storm hits,” Natasha says to Tony. “He’ll walk back to California on foot.”

Sam shakes his head, adoring smile still intact, and wraps an arm around her waist. “No way. I’ll stick it out for you.” 

“You better,” Natasha says. She turns back to Tony and tells him, “I was going to transfer to Stanford, but he beat me to it and went all romantic about how I couldn’t sacrifice my dream school for him.” 

“And she called me a dumbass and said I’d freeze to death before December.”

“All I’m saying is we could be sunbathing on a beach right now.”

Tony gets the feeling that it’s an old argument - so old and frequently revisited that it’s not even an argument at all anymore and more of a fond memory. Sam leans in and kisses to Natasha's cheek, then whispers something in her ear. As far as PDA goes, it’s minimal, but there’s something about it that makes Tony feel like he should look away, so he glances over his shoulder at Pepper and Bucky. 

They’re far enough away that Tony can’t really make out their facial expressions clearly enough to know how the conversation is going, but their body language is decipherable. Bucky looks relaxed, leaning back in his chair with his hands comfortably in his lap. Pepper’s posture is ramrod straight, her legs crossed primly at the ankles and hands folded on the table. She looks like she’s conducting a job interview, and the thought makes Tony snort.

“She’s really interrogating him, huh?” Sam asks, following his gaze. “You’ve known her for a long time I take it.”

Tony nods, “Since middle school.”

“So what’s with the Spanish Inquisition? What’s she so worried about?” Natasha questions. 

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of fake friends and leave it at that.”

“Wow, a dark past,” Sam jokes. “You’ll be fun to keep around.”

Tony laughs, “Nothing like that. I’m apparently too trusting for my own good.” 

The three of them continue to watch Pepper and Bucky from across the room. Tony tracks every subtle shift of body language, waiting for a sign of something happening. 

Eventually, Pepper’s posture relaxes just a bit, and Tony knows Bucky must have said something right. Another moment later and they’re standing up to rejoin the group.

“Well?” Tony asks when they’re close enough to hear it. “Did you pass?”

Bucky grins, “Looks like she won’t have to dig my grave just yet.”

“Oh, good,” Tony says, smiling back. “Cause you still owe me coffee.”

Bucky laughs as he picks up his backpack from next to his chair and slings it over his shoulder. He tilts his head toward the door and says, “Come on, then. I’ll even get you that coffee cake you like.”

“The one with the blueberries?”

“Of course, buttercup.”

Tony gets up from the table and turns to follow Bucky out, but is stopped by Pepper clearing her throat. She looks at him pointedly, and he remembers that technically this breakfast was for them to catch up. He bends to kiss her cheek in apology. 

“Sorry, Pep, but coffee’s calling. I’ll come by your dorm after my history class, promise.”

Pepper thankfully gives him an understanding smile, “Bring takeout and I’ll forgive you.”

“Chinese or Thai?”

“Surprise me.”

He gives her a mock salute, then walks away with Bucky at his side. Unable to wait, he immediately asks, “So what’d she say?”

“Nothing much.”

“Come on,” Tony prods, elbowing Bucky’s arm. “You were gone a long time. It couldn’t have been nothing.”

“She just asked a lot of questions about me,” Bucky shrugs. “My family, my classes, my friends. Kinda personal, but not too bad.”

Tony makes a face. “That’s weird.”

“I think she just wanted to make sure I wasn’t gonna be some kind of bad influence. It was actually kind of sweet.”

“Bad influence,” Tony repeats sourly. “Makes it sound like she’s my mother.”

“Or she knows you’ve been hurt before and doesn’t want to see it happen again. That’s not such a bad thing, Tony.”

Tony frowns, “Stop knowing things about me and sounding wise. I don’t like it.”

“No can do, princess,” Bucky laughs, throwing his arm around Tony’s shoulder. He leaves it there, and their hips bump with every step as they continue to walk. After a beat Bucky adds, “She really did threaten my life, though. I actually think she’d do it, too.”

“She definitely would.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to continue being the best friend you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, please,” Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re only making the top three right now by default. I could still replace you.”

“With who?”

“I don’t know, Sam and Natasha seem pretty cool.”

Bucky places his free hand on his chest, “Cooler than me? Impossible.”

“I watched you faceplant on the floor last night trying to take off your socks.”

“And I landed with grace.”

“I can still see the mark on your face from where you were bleeding.”

“What? No,” Bucky says, sounding dismayed as he feels his face for the mark. Tony reaches up and gently touches his finger to the tip of Bucky’s chin, where the mark is just barely visible in the bright daylight. “It’s not that bad, though, right?”

Tony shakes his head, “Nah, it’ll probably be gone by tomorrow.”

“Would be kinda cool if it scarred, though,” Bucky says. “I could tell people I got it in an underground cage fight.”

“Who would believe that?”

“I don’t look like I could win a fight?” 

“I think the scar implies that you lost the fight.”

Bucky pauses to think about it, then says, “But either way, it’s still hot that I did it in the first place, right?”

“Are you asking me if I think your fake cage fight scenario that explains a scar that doesn’t even exist is hot?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says simply.

Tony laughs, “It’s not.”

“Whatever, Stark,” Bucky grumbles, making Tony laugh harder. 

It’s more than he’s laughed in a long time, he realizes, and it’s becoming easier and easier with Bucky to just let go and let himself be happy. He’s not quite sure when that started to happen, when the shift from roommates to friends fully took effect, when his walls started dropping to actually let Bucky in. But he does know he likes the way it feels. 


	5. Chapter 5

Tony wakes up on a Saturday morning to the sound of the bathroom door closing, followed by the shower turning on. He rolls over with a groan, burying his face in the pillow. He gives himself another minute, then forces his body out of bed before Bucky’s out of the shower to do it for him. 

Opening the top drawer of his dresser, Tony prays that there’s at least one clean shirt in there, but he’s met with nothing but air. The next two are the same, but the third has some clean pants. The jeans are a little too tight for him, clinging to his thighs in a way that always makes him worry that one wrong move will rip them, but they’re all he’s got left as far as clean clothes go. At least he knows there’s still some clean underwear from the pack he bought last week. 

Tony pauses for a second, listening to make sure that the shower’s still running, and when he’s satisfied that it is, he makes his way over to Bucky’s dresser. He rummages quickly, searching for something that isn’t easily identifiable. 

The shower stops while he’s still looking, and he hastily pulls on a plain black t-shirt. Bucky fills his shirts out completely, but on Tony it falls almost to mid-thigh, at least two sizes too big for his smaller frame. 

Bucky comes out of the bathroom a moment later, dressed in just boxers and running a towel through his wet hair, and Tony flings himself across the room to pretend that he wasn’t just stealing Bucky’s clothes. 

“So, what are we doing today?” Tony asks, the picture of nonchalance as he leans back on his hands, perched at the edge of his bed. 

Bucky shrugs as he pulls on a pair of dark jeans, “That place on Franklin opened last week, I think. You wanted to try it, right?”

Tony nods, and Bucky suggests, “Breakfast there, and whatever you want after?”

He nods again, then freezes when Bucky opens his t-shirt drawer. If he notices that it’s been rifled through, he doesn’t say anything. He just takes one right from the top and pulls it on. 

“Ready?” Bucky asks as he grabs his shoes and sits on the corner of his mattress to put them on.

“Just gotta brush my teeth,” Tony says, getting up to head into the bathroom. 

The mirror is still fogged over with steam, which saves him from having to see the way he must be drowning in the shirt. He finishes up quickly and shoves his feet into the closest pair of shoes. 

Just before they’re out the door, Tony standing in front of Bucky, he hears, “Is that my shirt?”

“What? No, it’s mine,” Tony quickly says. 

“Guess I didn’t realize that you played soccer.” 

“Uh,” Tony drags out the syllable. What the fuck is on the back of the shirt? “Yeah.”

“That’s cool. What position did you play?” Bucky asks.

Tony names the only position he knows, “Goalie.”

“Really? You seem like you’d make a better forward.”

Tony shrugs, turning back around, “I’m good with my hands.”

Bucky nods slowly, “Just how committed to this lie are you?”

“Pretty committed,” Tony says, unfazed. “I’m about ten seconds away from a very elaborate story about this one time at soccer practice. There’s a surprise twist at the end.”

Bucky laughs, shaking his head, “You’re something else, doll.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Bucky says. He takes a step forward, diminishing the space between them, and tugs at the bottom hem of the shirt. “There a reason you’re stealing my clothes?”

Tony tries to play it off, even as the blush colors his cheeks, “I may have run out of clean shirts.”

“You have a million shirts,” Bucky frowns. “How’d you run out?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that someone broke into our room last night and stole them all? No? Okay, fine,” Tony trails off, not wanting to admit the truth. It makes him feel dumb, and he’s never been a fan of feeling dumb. 

But Bucky being Bucky, he figures it out anyway, “You can’t do laundry, can you?”

Tony sighs, staring down at the floor, “In my defense, someone’s supposed to teach you that, and it’s not my fault that no one ever bothered to.”

“I’ll bother to,” Bucky says, surprising Tony enough that his head jolts up. 

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” Bucky replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not that hard. Plus, as cute as you look in my clothes, you’re probably gonna want your own again someday.”

Tony smiles, “I really just want some pants. These suck.”

Bucky looks down at them, eyebrow cocking as he says, “They don’t really hide much, do they?”

Tony’s blush deepens, and he clears his throat to redirect the conversation. “So breakfast?”

“Laundry first, then breakfast,” Bucky corrects. “No way you’re going out in those. That’s gotta be enough for a public indecency charge.”

For some reason, the comment emboldens Tony. He twists his body to the side, looking over his shoulder at himself and lifting the shirt up. “I don’t know, I mean, it’s a great ass if i do say so myself, but criminally good?”

Bucky makes a strangled sound, and Tony grins. Isn’t that an interesting development?

“Something the matter?”

“Let’s just -” Bucky stutters to a stop, shaking his head as if to clear it. He can see Bucky’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. “Laundry. We’re doing laundry.”

“Yes, we are,” Tony says, smirking now. 

There’s a laundry basket acting as a makeshift hamper in the corner of the room, overflowing with dirty clothes. Tony grabs it and sets it on the bed, then kneels on the floor. He lifts the edge of his blanket and sticks his hand under the bed.

Glancing up at Bucky, he says, “Don’t judge me for this.”

Bucky looks confused at first, then laughs when Tony pulls out a garbage bag full of clothes. “Why didn’t you say something sooner, doll?”

Tony tosses the garbage bag on top of the laundry basket with a shrug. He reaches for the handles of the basket, but Bucky takes it from him. 

“It’s heavy, I’ve got it,” Bucky says. He juts his chin toward his closet. “Detergent’s in there. Gonna assume you don’t have any.”

“You assume correctly.”

Tony grabs the detergent from the closet floor, then opens the door to the room. They reach the door to the stairs, Tony leading the way, when he realizes he has no idea where the laundry room is. He pauses at the top of the stairs and looks over at Bucky in silent question, who seems amused as he says, “Basement.”

“Right, yeah,” Tony mumbles, bounding down the stairs. “I knew that.”

“I’m sure you did, princess.”

Tony looks over his shoulder to glare at him, “You know, in this context that just sounds condescending.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, darling,” Bucky says, words dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey, that’s too many nicknames,” Tony says, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You only have the rights to five.”

“What? No, I haven’t used up my five yet, have I?”

“Yes, _darling,”_ Tony adds extra emphasis to the nickname, “you have.”

“On what?” Bucky questions. 

Tony pushes the door to the basement open, holding it for Bucky to walk through. He ticks off the nicknames on his fingers as he recounts, “On the first day you called me buttercup, doll, sugar, and honey. The next you added sunshine and princess. I let the last one slide, but you’re pushing it too far with seven.”

“Well, shit,” Bucky frowns. He leads Tony into the laundry room, which is currently unoccupied, and sets the basket down on one of the machines. His hands are now free to put on his hips, adding to the pouting look he has going. “I want a redo.”

“A redo? You don’t get redos,” Tony laughs. “But, I’ll tell you what. If you manage to successfully teach me how to do laundry, I might just promote you to level three and you can have ten nicknames.”

Bucky smiles, “Challenge accepted. We should add unlimited nicknames to level five, by the way.”

“We can do that,” Tony agrees easily. He doesn’t mind the nicknames, anyway. 

Bucky claps his hands, all business as he says, “Alright, let’s get to it.”

Tony listens to Bucky’s instructions, sorting through his clothes to separate the white clothing from the colors and putting them into machines as he goes. Bucky shows him how much detergent to add, and within fifteen minutes all of his clothes are spinning around in the machines. 

“That was surprisingly easy,” Tony says after, hopping up to sit on top of one of the machines. They’ve decided just to stay and wait for the clothes to be done, seeing as they’ve definitely taken up more than their fair share of the machines and it would be rude to use them any longer than strictly necessary. 

Bucky sits on the one next to him and says, “I told you it wasn’t hard.”

“I know, but I wasn’t expecting it to be  _ that  _ easy. Commercials make it seem so complicated.”

Bucky laughs, “You based all your laundry knowledge on commercials?”

“Yeah, they always act like it’s super complicated with all the different settings and products and stuff.”

Bucky shakes his head, a soft small on his lips. “Bet you regret giving me level three for something so simple then, huh?”

“Nah,” Tony says. He leans back so his head is on the wall. “You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, darling.” 

Tony turns his head to the side so he can look at Bucky while he talks. “Three left. Use them wisely.”

“Hm, I think I’ll save the rest for later,” Bucky says. He mirrors the way Tony is sitting, settling back against the wall. “Wait for a really good one to hit me.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Bucky asks, “So ages fourteen through seventeen. What do you got for me?” 

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, I believe I was promised a story about a joy ride in your dad’s car.”

Tony grins at the memory, “‘Fraid there’s not much more to tell on that one.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Why does any fourteen year old steal their dad’s car? It was fun,” Tony says, then corrects, “Well, it was fun until the first time I stalled it. Then it was kind of scary.”

“Guess I was hoping for some kind of crazy bet or dare or something.”

Tony shakes his head as much as he can with it still against the wall. “Nope, just me being an idiot all by myself.”

Bucky hums, and there’s visible hesitation on his face before he asks, “Can I ask about the sweetheart thing? I mean, obviously you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m kinda curious.”

Tony sighs, closing his eyes, “Guess I already told you that I’d tell you at level three.”

Bucky reaches across the small space and puts his hand on top of Tony’s. It surprises him into opening his eyes again, and he keeps his gaze locked there as Bucky repeats, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m sure that it’s really personal, and I don’t want to push you.”

Tony nods, eyes still on their hands so he can’t see Bucky’s expression when he confesses, “Steve used to call me that.”

He waits for the wave of all too familiar hurt at the thought of Steve, but unexpectedly, it’s merely a ripple. A dim ache in his chest, rather than the all encompassing pain that has characterized every month since June. 

“Your ex-boyfriend?” Bucky asks, voice low to match Tony’s. 

“Yeah,” Tony says. He flips his hand over, palm to palm with Bucky’s now, and distracts himself by running his thumb across Bucky’s knuckles. “He, uh, he used to say it all the time. Sometimes I’d joke that he didn’t even know what my real name was.”

Tony pauses, “I knew he was breaking up with me the second he stopped saying it. There were probably a million signs, but I never saw them until that one.”

Bucky tightens his grip on Tony’s hand, properly grasping it now. Tony looks up at him, only to find that his eyes are on their hands, too. 

“Do you still love him?”

It’s unexpected again when he has to think about it, when the immediate answer isn’t yes.

“Maybe.” Tony sighs heavily, running his free hand through his hair. “He’s the only person I’ve ever been with, and maybe it’s dumb to think you’re gonna stay with the person you were with in high school forever, but I always thought we’d make it somehow. I never thought he’d just walk away like that.”

“It’s not dumb,” Bucky says. Tony gives him a doubtful look, and he continues, “It’s not dumb to want to love someone like that, to want forever with someone. Why bother if you think it’s just going to end anyway?”

Tony smiles, “Why do you always sound like you’ve got a hundred years of experience when we talk about this stuff?” 

“I’m wise beyond my years,” Bucky grins. “And I still contend that your ex is an asshole.”

Tony laughs and threads his fingers with Bucky’s, pulling him closer as Tony leans into him. His head fits perfectly on Bucky’s shoulder, and he doesn’t care much if they’re technically breaking one of the level rules. He wrote the rules, he can break them all he wants.

They’re quiet for a long moment, the room silent save for the sound of the washing machines running beneath them. Somewhere in the distance he can hear the noise from the game room, laughter and arcade game sound effects drifting down the hall. 

“Will you call me sweetheart?” Tony asks, voice just barely above a whisper. “I want to like it again.”

Bucky squeezes his hand, “Anything you want, sweetheart.”


	6. Chapter 6

The day before Halloween, Tony finds himself sitting cross-legged on Bucky’s bed, helping him with the makeup for his costume. He uses his thumb to wipe away an errant smudge of eyeliner from Bucky’s cheek, then leans back to see the finished results. 

“Well?” Bucky asks, holding his arms out to the sides, puffy sleeves fanning out. “Do I look like a sexy pirate?”

Tony snorts, capping the eyeliner and putting it back in the bag of makeup they borrowed from Pepper, “A pirate, sure. The sexy is debatable.”

“Please,” Bucky scoffs. He gestures down at his body, “You want this.”

Admittedly, Bucky does look hot in his pirate costume. The top of the shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his sculpted chest, and the nearly see through white fabric makes a sharp contrast against tanned skin. The pants are tight, almost overly so, and show off the impressive results of daily morning runs. 

Not that he’ll say any of that.

Tony rolls his eyes instead, sliding off the bed. He puts the makeup bag in his backpack so he’ll remember to return it. 

“How long do you need to change?” Bucky asks, looking at the time on his phone. 

Tony frowns, “I’m not changing.”

“What? You can’t go to a Halloween party without a costume.”

“Oh, good, then I won’t go.”

“Doll, you promised,” Bucky whines. He gets up from the bed and grabs Tony by the hips, turning him around. “You said you’d come with me.”

Tony tries not to laugh at Bucky’s pouting tone. “I will, but I don’t have a costume.”

Bucky smiles, a hint of something devilish in it, “Yes, you do.”

“I really don’t.”

Bucky turns, walks over to his closet, and starts sifting through the hanging shirts. He finds what he’s looking for and tosses it Tony’s way. 

Tony lifts it up in front of him, seeing ‘Barnes’ in bold black writing above the number nine on red material. 

“Your soccer jersey?” Tony asks, lowering the shirt so he can look at Bucky, who’s moved on to digging around in his dresser now. “Seriously?”

“You seemed pretty into it the other day,” Bucky says, smirking over his shoulder for a brief moment before continuing his search. “I’ve got the shorts here somewhere.”

Tony huffs a laugh, “Don’t lie. You just want me in your clothes again.”

He takes off his hoodie, then kicks off his jeans next to be prepared for the shorts. The jersey is a little smaller than the t-shirt he borrowed the other day, ending just above the lower hem of his boxers. 

“Aha! Got them. They might be-” Bucky cuts off abruptly, the arm that’s outstretched to give Tony the shorts frozen in the air. His eyes seem stuck on the shirt. 

For once, Bucky is the one blushing. He takes a few seconds to recover, then stumbles his way through the rest of the sentence, “Too big. But, um, you can just, uh, tuck the shirt in. Should be fine.”

“Will do,” Tony says, holding back a smile as he takes the shorts from his hand. Bucky stares at a spot on the ceiling while Tony puts them on, not looking again until Tony asks, “Does this look okay?”

“Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s good. Great costume.”

Tony looks down, assessing it for himself. He doesn’t mind it, actually. The shorts are too big, but the spare fabric of the shirt fills in the gap of the waistband.

“Should I have long socks? That’s a thing soccer players do, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky says, opening another drawer. “I’ve got some of those, too.”

Once Tony has the socks and shoes on, they leave their dorm room and head for the frat house that Natasha swears always has the best parties. She’s the one that convinced Bucky to come - not that it took much persuasion - and in turn Bucky convinced Tony to join him. That took even less persuasion. 

The party has already started by the time they get there. People litter the front lawn, playing some sort of game, and Tony glares at Bucky when he spots the occasional person without a costume. 

“Nat says they’re in the kitchen,” Bucky says, reading a text from his phone. He puts a hand on the small of Tony’s back, gently guiding him inside the house and through the living room. 

The kitchen is fairly small for the size of the house, but it’s the least crowded space he’s seen so far. Natasha and Sam are standing around the kitchen island, laughing with the blond guy in full zombie makeup and torn clothing next to them. All three have red cups in their hands, and the whole visual is the perfect college stereotype. 

Sam waves when he sees them, and when they’re close enough he says, “Hey, guys. Nice eyeliner, Barnes.”

It’s sarcastic, but Bucky grins anyway, “You can admit that it’s hot.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Anyway, this is Clint. He goes to BU. Clint, the emo pirate is Bucky, and that’s his roommate, Tony.”

“Emo pirate? You’re the one wearing wings and a dress, dude.”

“And I’m fucking killin’ it,” Sam replies.

Tony laughs, taking in the full effect of Sam and Nat’s costumes. She appears to be the devil to his angel, with Natasha dressed in a skintight red dress, heels, and horns. Her lips are painted the color of blood, and her auburn red hair enhances it further. Sam stands next to her, draped in white fabric tied together at the waist with large angel wings attached to the back. A golden halo hovers above his head, held there by a headband. 

Bucky puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder to get his attention, then leans in to ask, “You want a drink?”

Tony shrugs, “Sure.”

“Beer okay?”

Tony nods, watching as Bucky grabs two cups from the stack and fills them with practiced ease from the keg. He keeps one for himself and hands over the other. 

Taking a small sip, Tony tries to hide his grimace, but he must fail. 

“So beer was not okay,” Bucky says, amused.

“I didn’t expect it to be this gross.”

Sam frowns, “Haven’t you had beer before?”

Tony shakes his head, and Bucky offers, “I’ll get you something else. What do you like?”

“Um, I’m not sure, actually,” Tony admits sheepishly. “I haven’t drank much. Some wine at a wedding one time, but that’s about it.”

“You’ve never been drunk before?” Bucky asks.

“Steve didn’t like drinking.”

Bucky seems to make a decision quickly. He sets his nearly full drink to the side and says, “Tell you what, you drink as much as you feel comfortable with tonight, and I’ll stay sober to make sure you’re okay.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“So you can have the full college experience without worrying,” Bucky says. Tony’s face must look doubtful, because he lowers his voice so only Tony can hear it and says, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, I’ll stay by you so nothing happens.”

“Don’t you want the ‘full college experience’ too?” Tony asks, complete with air quotes. 

Bucky shrugs, “I can do that another time. And besides, seeing you drunk is gonna be just as fun for me, I bet.”

Tony considers it for a moment, then decides to go with it on one condition, “If you take any pictures of me while I’m drunk, I’ll kill you.”

Bucky smiles, “No pictures, I promise.”

“No videos, either.”

“No pictures, no videos, no recordings of any kind,” Bucky agrees. “The whole point of me staying sober is so you  _ don’t  _ have to worry, doll. I’ll keep you safe, even from yourself.”

“Okay,” Tony says. He trusts Bucky to keep his word, so he lets all of his fear fall away with a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s get me drunk.”

Tony takes another drink from his beer, taking more this time, but he can’t hold back the gag. Bucky laughs and takes the cup from his hand. Dumping the beer down the drain, he says, “Why don’t we try to find something you actually like, honey.”

“Yeah, I like that plan,” Tony says, scraping his tongue against his teeth as if that will remove the taste from his mouth.

Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Bucky wind up taking turns mixing him drinks with various alcohols. Natasha’s vodka mixture burns his throat on the way down, making him cough and steal the water out of Bucky’s hand to wash it down. Sam’s rum and coke goes down much better, and he drinks the entire thing before moving on to Clint’s suggestion of “just mix it all with Red Bull.” 

By the time the fourth drink is down, he’s leaning against Bucky and suddenly everyone’s a lot funnier than they were just an hour ago. Bucky uncaps another bottle of water, stolen from the fridge, and hands it to Tony. 

“Stay hydrated,” he says. “It’ll help with the hangover.”

Tony complies, swallowing down most of the bottle in one long gulp. He sets the semi-crushed bottle down on the counter and grabs Bucky’s hand to tug him towards the living room. Bucky doesn’t move, so Tony says, “I wanna play a game.”

“Yeah? What do you wanna play?” 

“Can you teach me how to do the - the -” Tony frowns when he can’t remember the word. “The thing with the cups. You know the cups and the ball and the drinking.”

Bucky laughs, “You wanna play beer pong?”

“Yeah, that’s the one!” Tony exclaims. He holds Bucky’s hand with both of his, widening his eyes in a plea. “Can we do that? Please?”

“We can do that,” Bucky smiles. “But don’t look at me when you have to drink beer and you hate it.”

Tony nods solemnly, “A fair exchange.”

Bucky laughs again, though Tony doesn’t quite know why, and turns to the group. “Anyone wanna join?”

Sam and Natasha exchange a quick look, then both shrug in sync. “Yeah, alright.”

“Clint, you wanna be on Tony’s team?” Bucky asks.

“Hey, no,” Tony whines. “You’re on my team.”

“I can’t be on your team if I’m not drinking, princess,” Bucky says. He runs his hand down Tony’s back, and Tony arches into the touch. He learned two drinks ago that alcohol makes him clingy. At Tony’s continued pout, Bucky adds, “I’ll still teach you, though.”

Tony beams, “I’m a very good student.”

Natasha informs them that there’s always beer pong happening in the basement, and the five of them head down there. They have to wait for another group’s game to be over, but it only takes a few minutes. Sam and Clint fill new cups and arrange them on the table, and they take their spots at the table. Clint, Bucky, and Tony stand at one end, with Sam and Natasha on the other.

“Do you know the rules?” Bucky asks him, voice coming from directly next to Tony’s ear. Tony can feel his breath on his skin, and it sends a shiver down his spine. 

Tony shakes his head when he remembers that Bucky asked a question.

“It’s really simple. You’ll just take turns throwing the ball into their cups, and if you make it, they have to drink. If they make it, you and Clint drink.”

Natasha goes first, and her shot bounces off the rim of a cup. Clint starts trash talking almost immediately after that, and Natasha and Clint must know each other well because the digs rapidly escalate in intensity without either getting offended. Tony laughs through the first three turns, then grows serious when the ball is handed to him. 

It misses the last row of cups by more than a foot. His frown transforms into a grin, however, as he turns back to Bucky. 

“I think I need a hands-on lesson.”

Bucky gives him a look that Tony can’t quite read, “Oh, do you now?” 

Tony nods, “I’ve been told that I’m a kinesthetic learner, you know.”

“I’m very impressed you can still say that word right now.”

Tony smiles, and he’s vaguely aware that the game is still going on behind them, but he can’t focus on anything more than Bucky right now, especially when Bucky’s hands are on his hips, turning him around so they’re back to chest. Tony sighs contently. His head feels heavy, and he rests it on Bucky’s shoulder. Until the ball is back in his hand, he forgets about the game completely.

His performance doesn’t improve, even with Bucky guiding his motions. If anything it gets worse, but Clint manages to sink the majority of his shots to make up for it. By the end, Tony’s drank three cups of beer and is somehow a winner without making it once. 

He turns in Bucky’s grip, grinning up at him. His arms circle Bucky’s shoulders. 

“I’m fantastic at beer pong.”

Bucky smiles back, laughter in his eyes, “Yeah, darling, you’re practically a prodigy.”

“Ugh, get a room already,” Clint groans.

Bucky shoots him a glare, but Tony’s unbothered. He lets himself sink into Bucky’s arms, his body requiring too much effort to hold itself up. Bucky’s hold tightens, and he brushes his hand through Tony’s messy hair. 

Bucky’s voice is soft as he asks, “You ready to head home, doll?”

“Mm,” Tony nods. “Carry me.”

“I’m not carrying you,” Bucky laughs. He adjusts their position so Tony is tucked beneath one of his arms, supporting Tony’s weight. 

“Why not?” Tony asks petulantly. 

Bucky ignores the question in favor of saying goodbyes to the group instead. He keeps Tony steady on the way up the stairs and through the house. The autumn air makes him shudder once they’re outside, and Bucky runs his hand up and down Tony’s bare arm. 

“Should’ve brought a jacket,” Bucky mumbles.

“Don’t need one,” Tony says, burrowing closer in Bucky’s warmth, hand fisting in his shirt. “Got you.”

Bucky sighs, “You are going to have such a hangover in the morning.”

“‘m not that drunk,” Tony argues.

“Of course not.”

“I‘m not. I can still do my ABCs. Do you wanna hear them?” 

Bucky laughs, “I’ll take your word for it.”

Tony giggles, stopping abruptly when a thought hits him. He pokes Bucky’s cheek repeatedly to get his attention. “Hey, Bucky. Bucky, Bucky, hey.”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Bucky appears to be holding back a smile, but that just won’t do. He should be smiling outright, all the time, Tony thinks. 

“You’re really pretty. Like, really, really pretty. Did you know that?”

“Oh, am I?” Bucky grins, and Tony thinks,  _ that’s better.  _

In his distraction he stumbles over a bit of uneven pavement, but he can’t fall far with the way Bucky’s arms flex and tighten around him to keep him steady.

“Okay,” Bucky sighs again as Tony starts to laugh. He doesn’t give any warning before he hooks his arm under Tony’s knees and lifts. 

“You said you wouldn’t carry me,” Tony smiles, feeling victorious as he buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. He smells good, clean and warm, and Tony closes his eyes and presses further in until he physically can’t anymore. 

“Can’t let you fall and break that beautiful face, can I?” Bucky teases. 

Tony shakes his head, mumbling into Bucky’s skin, “‘m not beautiful. You’re beautiful. And strong. So, so strong. That’s really hot.”

He feels the vibration of Bucky’s chest, even though Bucky keeps his laughter silent otherwise. Tony pulls back a little, opening his eyes to look at him. The glow of the streetlight casts his side profile in yellow, softening the sharp edges of his jaw. There’s a small bump in the bridge of Bucky’s nose that he’s never noticed before, and Tony reaches out to trace it with the tip of his finger.

“What’re you doing?” Bucky asks, voice in a whisper, as if he’s noticed Tony’s mood change. And he probably has. He always notices.

Tony doesn’t answer. He continues tracing the lines of Bucky’s face, down his nose to the jut of his upper lip. Bucky twitches infinitesimally as Tony follows the curve of his lower lip, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly up. The skin is softer than he thought it would be. 

He follows along his jawline, until his finger disappears from his line of vision and he lets his hand drop onto Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Now I can’t forget,” Tony says.

Bucky looks down at him, and a stray strand of hair falls over his forehead. Tony pushes it back, gently tucking it behind his ear.

“Forget what?”

Tony can’t answer that question, can’t explain how it feels like he’s memorized his face with his fingertips and won’t be able to lose it now. It won’t make sense to anyone but him. 

Instead he says, “Thank you for tonight.”

Bucky smiles softly, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh my God,” Tony groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Oh, God. I’m dying.”

Bucky laughs as he shuts the door to their dorm room, and the sound reverberates in Tony’s skull in the worst way. “You’re not dying. You have a hangover.”

“I’m dying,” Tony repeats firmly. “I’m never drinking again. Why did you let me do that?”

He feels Bucky’s presence next to his bed, but the smell of coffee is what makes him open his eyes. Removing his hands, he cracks one eye open and says, “Please tell me you have ten of those for me.”

Bucky smiles, “Just the one coffee I’m afraid.”

Tony makes a grabby hand motion, but Bucky lifts the tray of coffee above his head. There are two plastic bags in his other hand, and he holds them out to Tony. 

“Coffee is only for people who take their aspirin and drink their water first.”

“You’re mean,” Tony pouts. He takes the bags, pulling one open to find two bottles of water and a new bottle of aspirin. As he removes the safety seal from the pill bottle and pops two in his mouth, he asks, “What’s in the other one?”

“Something that’ll make you feel bad for calling me mean, I’m sure.”

Tony sets the water bottle on his nightstand, uncapped for easy access, and grabs the other bag. Inside, there are multiple smaller bags, and he recognizes the different packages immediately.

“You are my favorite person in the entire universe,” Tony says, grinning as he grabs a paper bag and pulls out a chocolate frosted donut. 

He tucks himself into the corner of the mattress, back against the wall to make space, and pats the spot next to him. Bucky kicks off his running shoes and takes the unspoken invitation to sit with him. The coffee tray ends up in the space between their knees, balanced a little unevenly on the blanket.

Opening the bag, Bucky takes the other of the two donuts for himself and says, “There’s also a slice of that coffee cake you like, a blueberry muffin, a cinnamon roll, and some pecan pie, which I know you shouldn’t eat for breakfast, but you’ve got a hangover and it’s the one that you said you’d kill a man for the other day, so I figure an exception can be made.”

“You brought me pie?” 

Tony shoves the rest of the donut in his mouth and goes back to the bag. Sure enough, at the bottom of the bag is a small styrofoam container and a plastic fork from the diner down the street. 

“How many places did you go this morning?” he asks around a mouthful of pie. 

Bucky shrugs, “A few. It’s not a big deal.”

Tony can count at least three stops between the different foods and aspirin, and he knows that the coffee shop and the diner are in opposite directions. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Tony says softly, “but thank you.”

“Like I said, doll, it’s not a big deal. Hangovers aren’t fun, but I figured I could make it a little better.”

He leans his head against Bucky’s shoulder, rearranging himself on the pillows until he’s comfortable, and says, “You made it a lot better. And you’re right.”

“About what?”

“I do feel bad for calling you mean.”

Bucky laughs, “I’ll forgive you.”

Tony takes another bite of pie, holding back the moan he wants to make at the taste. He’s definitely right about it being worth murder, even if Bucky laughed at him when he said it before. Bucky takes out the cinnamon roll, and they’re quiet for a bit while they eat their respective treats. 

“So how much weird shit did I say last night?” Tony asks, tossing the empty styrofoam container in the general direction of the trash can. He wasn’t drunk enough to forget the night, but he’s sure there’s gaps in his immediate recall. 

“Wasn’t that weird,” Bucky says. Then he smiles, “You did call me pretty a bunch of times, though. Seemed like you really wanted me to know that.”

Tony flushes a little, though he can’t bring himself to feel as embarrassed as he probably should be. 

“And it seems like you do know it now, so success for drunk me,” Tony says. He grabs the coffee from the carrier, takes a long drink, then sighs happily, “Oh, I love you.”

“The way you talk to your coffee is disturbing,” Bucky jokes. 

“Don’t be jealous, darling. I like you, too,” Tony replies. “But seriously. Nothing else weird?”

“Nah. You’re cute when you’re drunk, though.”

“I’m cute all the time.”

Tony smacks Bucky’s arm when he has the audacity to laugh. “I retract my retraction. You’re definitely mean.”

There’s amusement in Bucky’s voice as he says, “But I brought you pie. You didn’t even have to kill anyone for it.”

“Which means my murder quota has room for one more.”

“I’ve never felt less threatened in my life.”

Tony lifts his head and scowls. The open affection he finds on Bucky’s face makes it difficult for the glare to hold any lasting heat behind it, especially when Bucky says, “You’re cute when you’re angry, too.”

“Shut up,” Tony grumbles. He puts his head back down on Bucky’s shoulder, almost kicking over the coffee between them in his quest to get closer. Bucky picks it up and sets it on the nightstand, allowing Tony to press against him completely, head to sock-covered toes. He’s still dressed in Bucky’s jersey, but the shorts have been abandoned to leave him in his boxers and for some reason the socks have stayed on. It should be weird to still be in Bucky’s clothes, but it isn’t. 

Bucky puts his arm around Tony’s waist, and the other hand strokes delicate fingers through Tony’s hair. After a quiet moment, Bucky teases, “Hey, does this make me a level four?”

Tony laughs, “You took care of me while I was drunk, so I guess you’ve earned the right.”

“It’s not exactly a hardship to take care of you, but I’ll take the upgrade anyway,” Bucky says. His fingers continue to run through Tony’s hair, gently massaging his scalp and soothing away the headache. His voice is soft like a confession when he adds, “I like taking care of you.”

“Why?” Tony asks. 

Bucky shrugs, one shouldered as to not jostle Tony, “Because of the look on your face that first time I brought you coffee.”

It’s simple and sincere, and it makes everything come together in Tony’s mind suddenly. He doesn’t give himself the chance to overthink it, moving on the bed until his knees are bracketing Bucky’s thighs. Bucky’s hands slot into the dip of his hips like they were made to hold him, and how did he never notice that before? 

Tony pauses for just a second, giving Bucky the chance to push him away. To tell him that he was reading everything wrong and they aren’t anything more than friends. 

But Bucky’s gaze shifts from Tony’s eyes down to his mouth, and Tony can feel the slight hitch of his breath as he leans in. Any remaining doubt vanishes as Bucky kisses him back. 

He remembers the feeling of Bucky’s lips under his fingertips, the echo of it in his mind as he traces the same path with his tongue. Cinnamon and sugar linger on his skin, compounding the sweetness he’s sure would have been there anyway. 

It’s as close to perfect as a first kiss could be. Bucky’s touch is undemanding, yet unrestrained. One hand comes to rest on the back of his neck, holding him close but not asking for more than Tony’s willing to give. 

When they break apart, Tony rests his forehead against Bucky’s, eyes still closed as he catches his breath. Bucky’s arm is a comforting weight around his waist, and the fingers on his neck draw circles onto his skin. When he breathes out, it takes the shape of Tony’s name. 

Tony pulls back a few inches, opening eyes to look into Bucky’s. 

“Tell me that was okay,” he whispers. “Tell me that I didn’t just ruin this.”

Instead, Bucky asks, “Do you still love Steve?”

Tony looks down at his hand, at the way it’s clutching Bucky’s shirt like a lifeline. 

“I - it’s complicated,” he says weakly. 

Bucky brushes his thumb across Tony’s cheek, so tenderly that Tony could cry, and whispers, “I don’t want to be the guy that makes you forget your ex. I don’t wanna be the one you’re with just because he’s not around anymore.”

“That’s not what this is.”

Bucky smiles softly, “Maybe not, but I don’t want you to be in love with someone else while I’m falling in love with you.”

Tony breaks a little, and the hurt must be visible on his face. He’s never been good at hiding.

“I’m not saying that I don’t want you. That would be an absolute lie,” Bucky says. “But I can’t do this until the answer to that question is no. I can’t kiss you the way that I want to kiss you until I know that I’m the only one you’re thinking about.”

Tony swallows, gives a barely perceptible nod, then voices the fear that’s been looming in the back of his mind for months, “What if I can’t get over him?”

“You will,” Bucky says, confidently enough that Tony wants to believe it. “And I’ll still be here when you do.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Three weeks after The Kiss, as Tony has taken to calling it in his mind (emphasis included and very much necessary), Bucky leaves for Thanksgiving break. It’s the first time in months that they’ve spent more than twelve hours apart, and Tony is almost grateful for it. 

Their friendship has returned to normal, though now that Tony’s feelings have come to the surface, he’s noticed just how not normal it always was. Normal roommates don’t talk to each other like that, and they don’t call each other names like Bucky and Tony do. They don’t give each other their clothes, and if they did, they wouldn’t visibly enjoy the sight of the other person in them. They definitely aren’t as comfortable with cuddling.

As much as he’s glad that The Kiss didn’t put an end to all of that, it’s also torture to experience it. To see the affection in Bucky’s eyes, feel it in the casual touch of his hands, but be unable to return it like he wants to. He promised himself he’d be respectful of Bucky’s wishes, knowing that it’s better for both of them in the end, but that doesn’t make it easier. 

So he’s almost grateful for the space given by Thanksgiving break. Almost.

“When are you coming back?” Tony asks. It sounds a little whiny, even to his own ears. 

He can hear the smile in Bucky’s voice through the phone. “Sunday morning. I’ll be back before you’re even awake.”

“That’s still four more days. I could die before then.”

“Can you try not to? I don’t want the room to smell like a decomposing body when I get back. No amount of Febreeze can take care of that.”

Tony laughs, “Why does it sound like you’re speaking from experience?”

“Well -”

“No, no, please don’t tell me you actually have a story for this,” Tony says.

There’s a pause, then Bucky says, “One of my sisters used to have a hamster.”

“Oh my God.”

“It’s not that bad. He lived for a really long time. I’m pretty sure it was natural causes.”

“This is a terrible story.”

“But he really liked hiding in his little house, so no one noticed for a few days.”

“Please stop talking.”

“I swear I can still smell it sometimes.”

“Now I’m gonna die while you’re gone just to spite you.”

Bucky laughs, and Tony’s heart clenches at the sound. In his mind he can picture the way Bucky looks when he laughs, the crinkles around his eyes and the scrunch of his nose. 

There’s a rustle from Bucky’s side, and a “be right there” that sounds like he pulled away from the phone to shout it. 

“I gotta go, doll. My mom’s calling me.”

Tony tries not to feel disappointed, keeping his voice cheery as he says, “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll call you in the morning. Don’t go to bed too late.”

“Yes, dear,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. 

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Tony hangs up the phone with a sigh, tossing it on the mattress next to him. The dorm room is too quiet without Bucky there, and as much as Tony complains about his restless habits, he’d gotten used to the ambient sounds of balls bouncing off walls and repetitive pen clicking. 

Forcing himself out of bed and over to his desk, he turns his computer on and opens his project for his physics class. When he told his parents he wasn’t coming home for break, he said that he was behind on his coursework and couldn’t spare the time. It wasn’t a complete lie. Technically he has projects, and technically they aren’t done yet. But the project in front of him isn’t due for another two and a half weeks. He had the time, but he didn’t have the energy to fake every emotion for an entire week.

He gets lost in the project for a while, running through formulas and calculating trajectories, and the knock on the door startles him out of his trance. His knee hits the underside of the desk when he jumps, knocking over his coffee mug, and he rushes to pick it up before it can tumble to the floor and shatter. The liquid comes dangerously close to his laptop, making him scramble for the box of tissues on Bucky’s nightstand. 

Another knock on the door makes him swear under his breath, and he leaves the soggy mess of tissue on the desk to answer it. He’s ready to give the person on the other side a lecture about patience until he notices who it is. Tony’s mouth falls open, and he’s leaping into his open arms without a moment of hesitation.

“Jesus, Tony,” Rhodey says, stumbling back a step with a grunt as he catches Tony. “You’re too heavy for this shit.”

Tony tightens his hold, legs and arms squeezing around him. He presses his nose to the top of Rhodey’s head, breathing in the familiar smell of the coconut oil product he uses. He breathes out in a content sigh, “Don’t care. Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, Tones,” Rhodey says. 

Tony pulls back a little, taking in the sight of Rhodey in his Air Force uniform. He looks older, muscles larger and shoulders somehow broader. His face has lost any remaining traces of baby fat, and Tony pokes one cheek to feel the difference. 

“What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you still be in basic?”

“Finished basic yesterday, and I wanted to see you before I went home. I can only stay for tonight, though,” Rhodey says, lowering Tony back to the ground. Tony pulls him into the room, shutting the door behind them. “Gotta head back to New York in the morning. Mama would kill me if I missed Thanksgiving.”

“How’d you even know I was here?” Tony asks. He returns to the mess on the desk, throwing coffee-soaked tissues into the trash. “I could’ve gone home.”

Rhodey raises an eyebrow, “And voluntarily be part of a Stark family holiday? I know you better than that.”

“Pepper told you, didn’t she?”

Rhodey laughs, “She may have mentioned it on the phone last week. And you know what else she mentioned?”

Tony plays dumb, “Nope.”

“Really? There’s nothing you haven’t told me about?”

Tony finishes cleaning up the spill and uses the need to save his project and shut down his laptop as a reason not to look at Rhodey as he repeats, “Nope.”

“Hm, that’s funny,” Rhodey says flatly. “So she must be making up the stories about your super hot roommate. That’s a direct quote from Pepper, by the way. I’ll have to take her word for it since I haven’t seen him myself.”

“Someone should check her for a brain injury if she’s hallucinating like that.”

“So he isn’t super hot?”

“Oh, he definitely is,” Tony says before he can stop himself. Rhodey gives him an amused smile, and Tony groans, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Rhodey shakes his head. He thankfully doesn’t sound hurt or offended when he asks, “So do I finally get to hear about this guy? Pepper says you’re pretty close. Pretty flirty, too.”

Tony sighs and shoves his keys and wallet into his pockets. He takes Rhodey’s hand, dragging him back out of the door room. 

“Where are we going?”

“If you’re going to make me talk about my feelings, you’re buying me coffee first. You made me spill mine.”

Rhodey snorts, “Alright, fine.”

They walk down the sidewalk together, Tony leading the way to the coffee shop near the center of campus. It feels wrong to take Rhodey to the one he goes to with Bucky, even if it is much better. 

“Start talking,” Rhodey says, jabbing him lightly with his elbow. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, for starters, is it true what Pepper says? Do you flirt with him?”

“In my defense, I didn’t realize it was flirting at first.”

Rhodey gives him an incredulous look. “How do you accidentally flirt with someone?”

“I just thought we were friends!” 

“He called you sunshine.”

Tony pauses, then reasons, “He’s a very nice friend.”

“So am I but I don’t go around calling you doll.”

“Maybe you should start,” Tony jokes. “Apparently I like it.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes, “Never in a million years. But come on, you said you didn’t realize it at first, which means you must be doing it on purpose now.”

“Of course you caught that,” Tony mutters under his breath. “I might be just a little, tiny bit into him, and I may have, possibly, kissed him a few weeks ago.”

“You kissed him?” Rhodey looks shocked. “Why the fuck didn’t Pepper tell me that?”

Tony awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “I kinda didn’t tell her.”

Rhodey doesn’t say anything, clearly waiting for an explanation, so Tony continues, “It’s just - it’s weird, okay? Things were really good. We were friends, and it was comfortable and nice, and he knew my coffee order and how I like blueberries in everything, and he turned my joke into this honestly pretty cute thing with levels and shit. But then I got drunk at a party and he stayed sober so he could take care of me, and I just -” He falters, throwing his hands in the air, “I just realized that he’s everything that I want and for some reason he wants me, too. And that was great and amazing, so I kissed him and that was great and amazing, too. I mean, he really knows what he’s doing, Rhodey. It’s like his tongue was-”

“Oh my God,” Rhodey groans, cutting him off. “Do not finish that sentence.”

Tony sighs, “See how my life falls apart when you’re not around, platypus?”

“That’s your life falling apart?” Rhodey questions. “The guy you like likes you back, and your life is falling apart?”

“He won’t date me,” Tony confesses. “I told him about Steve, and he said that he can’t be with me while I’m still in love with someone else. And that’s - that’s fair. I know that it is. It just sucks.”

Rhodey nods slowly, processing, then he asks, “Are you still in love with Steve? Or do you just love him?”

Tony frowns, confused, “What do you mean?”

Rhodey shrugs, “He’s kind of all you’ve ever known. You were together for two years, and you were in love with him for another two before that. You had every single first with him, and, before you can say it, that time you kissed Pepper during spin the bottle does not count as your first kiss. You missed her mouth.”

Tony’s frown intensifies - he was definitely going to say it. But instead, he says, “Can you start making sense, please?”

“You loved him for a really long time, Tony. He was your best friend. You gave him every part of you, and maybe he kept a few pieces. I think it’s normal for there to be some feelings still. But you don’t have to be in love with someone to love them. You can still care about him and fall in love with someone else.”

Tony stops walking, and Rhodey turns to stand in front of him. He blankly stares at Rhodey’s boots, trying to get his thoughts together. It’s difficult when his emotions seem to be at war. 

“I think,” he starts, swallowing hard. “I think I’m just angry. I’m angry that he ruined what we had and that he moved on so fast. That he never hurt like I did. And now I’m angry that I can’t get rid of him. 

“He’s all the way across the country, and somehow he’s ruining this one, too. And I don’t want to care about him. I don’t want to love him at all, but I can’t bring myself to hate him.”

Rhodey wraps his arms around him, pulling him in close, and Tony can’t stop the tears burning in his eyes. 

“You don’t have to hate him,” Rhodey says, voice low in Tony’s ear. His hand rubs soothing circles on Tony’s back, and it breaks him a little more. “It’s okay to be angry. But you don’t have to give him the power to ruin this. You can choose to move on.”

They stay there like that for a while, Rhodey holding Tony while he cries. He’ll feel embarrassed about it later, he’s sure, but for right now, all he can feel is relief.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the comments and support you've given this work so far!
> 
> I've seen a few comments so far wondering if Steve and Bucky know each other in this universe, so I thought it would be best to clarify that they don't! Steve grew up in upstate New York, where Tony moved in middle school.

Bucky returns from Thanksgiving break with a cold. It starts on Monday, when he sneezes so many times while getting dressed for his morning run that Tony wakes up. Tony tells him he shouldn’t run in the cold if he’s getting sick, but Bucky goes anyway. On Tuesday a sore throat is added to the mix, though Bucky does his best to hide that. He won’t tell Tony that he was right about running in December with a cold, but Tony sees the way the water bottle supply is quickly dwindling. 

On Wednesday, when Bucky skips his morning run and stays in bed through sunrise, Tony’s reminded of the last time that happened and smiles. He steals one of Bucky’s hoodies, slipping it on over his t-shirt, and shoves his bare feet into shoes. Bucky’s forehead is sweaty when he presses a light kiss to it. 

He leaves the room with his wallet and keys in the pocket of his pajama pants, hair unattended to, but teeth brushed. (He might look classless, but he won’t smell it.) Fifty minutes later he returns, hands full of supplies. 

Bucky’s awake now, though his position is barely unchanged - huddled in the middle of his bed, blanket wrapped tightly around him and tucked under his chin as he leans against a stack of pillows. There’s a scowl on his face, directed, it seems, at the universe for smiting him with this cold. 

Tony grins, “Good morning, darling.”

Bucky makes a sound that might be a word. His voice is gruff, and he isn’t speaking any louder than absolutely necessary as he asks, “Where’d you go?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” Tony says, kicking off his shoes. He sets the supplies on the floor and fits himself in the sliver of space on the outer side of Bucky’s bed. “You may not brag when you do nice things, but I certainly will. It’s something you’ll come to love about me, I’m sure.”

Bucky’s scowl softens into a small smile. He moves over to create more space for Tony, even as he says, “You shouldn’t get this close to me. I’ll get you sick.”

Tony places a finger over Bucky’s lips, effectively silencing him. “Hush, I’m trying to be a kind and caring friend over here.”

“You’re doing an excellent job,” Bucky says sarcastically, though the effect is lost a little as it muffles against Tony’s skin. “I’m feeling very cared for.”

Tony reaches down to grab for one of the large cups in the beverage carrier and hands it to Bucky. “Green tea with lavender honey. The girl at the coffee shop recommended it. You know the girl with the purple hair and the nose ring? I figured she knew what she was talking about.”

He bends again for the bag from the corner store, placing it in Bucky’s lap. 

“I didn’t know what kind of cough drops you’d like, so I got a few. Same with the Gatorade. I mean, I think blue is the only flavor worth drinking, but you seem like a yellow kind of guy.”

Another bag.

“And I got some more tissues for obvious reasons. And if you noticed that I used all of yours while you were gone, it’s not what you think, I swear. There was a spill. All Rhodey’s fault.”

A third bag.

“Did you know that they card you for some types of cold medicine? I couldn’t get you the really good stuff, because I’m still seventeen, but I got what I could. Oh, and there’s a thermometer in there because I feel like we should have one of those.”

He leaves the fourth plastic bag on the floor for later and goes for the paper bag. 

“There’s some soup and crackers and stuff in that one for whenever you’re hungry later. For now, though, I thought you might like some eggs and toast.” 

Tony finishes rambling and straightens back up, holding a takeout container. Bucky takes it with an amused smile.

“You’re taking care of me,” he says, smile growing still.

“Well, yeah. It should go both ways, right?” 

“Don’t you have class in ten minutes?”

Tony shrugs, “It’s nothing important.”

Bucky’s still looking at him, exhaustion keeping him from sheltering any of the emotions on his face, and if Tony thought he looked at him with affection before, that was nothing compared to this. 

Tony has to look away before he says something he shouldn’t. He nudges Bucky with his elbow. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Yes, dear,” Bucky says, mimicking Tony’s tone of voice from the other day. Except it gets caught in his throat and sends him into a coughing fit, and Tony has to muffle his laughter into his own drink. 

Bucky eats about half of the eggs and one piece of toast, then he reaches across Tony to put the container on the nightstand. He settles further down into the pillows after and sips his tea. His eyes are half-lidded and slowly falling further shut. Tony takes the cup from his hand before he can drop it, setting it next to the discarded takeout container, and puts the bags back on the floor. 

Bucky slings an arm around Tony’s waist suddenly, pulling him down next to him, and the surprised squeak Tony makes is anything but dignified. Bucky doesn’t comment on it, though. Instead, he nestles himself beneath Tony’s arm to rest his head on Tony’s chest and gives a content sigh. 

Tony smiles as he cards his hand through Bucky’s hair. His fingers snag on a few tangles, and he gently loosens the knots as he listens to Bucky’s slow breathing. 

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Tony whispers the question, just in case he’s asleep already.

Bucky nods slightly, and after a pause he softly asks, “Is that okay?”

Tony presses his lips to the top of Bucky’s head, just a firm enough to make sure that Bucky can feel it. 

“Of course, baby.”

He isn’t sure where the endearment comes from. It falls from his lips before he even knows it’s there. But he only has a second to wonder if he’s crossed some sort of invisible line before Bucky is shifting closer and pressing his cold nose against Tony’s neck. The top of his head is tucked just beneath Tony’s chin, and his ankle hooks around Tony’s.

“You’re comfy,” Bucky murmurs. “Told you you’d be perfect for cuddling.”

“We’ve cuddled before,” Tony reminds him.

“Not like this,” Bucky says, and Tony knows it’s true. This is more intimate than Tony’s head on Bucky’s shoulder in the laundry room, more than even Bucky’s arms around him before they kissed. This is quiet affection running in both directions, passing between them at every point of contact, and Tony gives himself over to it.

He wraps his arms around Bucky’s torso, letting his fingers slip beneath the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt to rest along the bumps of his spine, while the other hand stays in his hair. 

Bucky’s breathing slowly evens out, and Tony can feel his muscles relaxing as he falls asleep in the way he grows heavier. He smiles into Bucky’s hair and lets himself drift away too. 

Tomorrow, Tony decides before sleep can take him. He’ll tell him he loves him tomorrow. 


	10. Chapter 10

‘Tomorrow’ doesn’t quite go as planned. Bucky is still sick and sleeps until eleven. When he wakes up, he forces Tony out the door to go to class, even though Tony thinks he should stay to take care of him. 

The next day, Bucky’s feeling better, but Tony is so congested he feels like an elephant is on his chest. By the time they’re both healthy again, it’s been a full week, and the fear is creeping in again. The logical part of his brain knows there’s nothing to be afraid of - the chances of Bucky rejecting him are practically zero. But the irrational part keeps telling him not to risk what they currently have. To hoard every look and touch and keep them locked away someone safe where nothing could possibly hurt them, not even the end of them. 

So Tony waits and feels like a coward for it. 

“I need a break,” Bucky announces, loudly closing his textbook and making Tony jump with the suddenness of it. 

He keeps his eyes on his laptop and the final revisions to his physics project. Or he tries to, at least. 

Bucky leans over the back of Tony’s chair, hands on the desk on either side of Tony’s body. He rests his chin on Tony’s shoulder and asks, “Take a break with me?”

Tony sighs, acting more put out than he is so Bucky will say, “Please?”

“Okay,” he says easily. 

Bucky turns his head and kisses Tony’s cheek, then straightens back up and grabs his shoes. Tony stands and does the same. When he reaches for his jacket, he changes his mind and goes for Bucky’s hoodie instead, the same one that he borrowed last week. 

Bucky shakes his head, but it’s betrayed by the fond smile on his face, “I’m never getting that hoodie back, am I?”

“Nope,” Tony grins. He puts his keys and wallet in the front pocket and asks, “Where are we going anyway?”

Bucky shrugs, “We could just walk a bit, if that’s alright with you.”

“I don’t know,” Tony says coyly as he opens the door to the room. “It’s pretty cold out. You might have to hold my hand to keep it warm.”

“Sounds like a tough job, but I guess someone has to do it.”

Tony laughs as they walk down the stairs. It turns into a smile when they walk outside and Bucky immediately takes his hand. He likes the way their hands fit together, with Tony’s smaller hand wrapped in Bucky’s larger one. Bucky’s skin is soft and warm, and his thumb brushes across the back of Tony’s hand.

He lets Bucky lead the way, following along as he takes them down Vassar Street, right by the football stadium and baseball fields. They don’t say much at first, the silence between them comfortable and easy, until Bucky says, “You know, level four was supposed to come with existential crises, but I haven’t heard one yet.”

“Oh, did you want me to have one? If you give me some time I’m sure I can find something to freak out about.”

Bucky laughs, “No, I don’t want that. All I’m saying is that I’m feeling a little cheated here. Level four isn’t looking like that much of an upgrade.”

“Are you saying my cuddling isn’t enough for you?”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky quickly says, pulling Tony a little closer so Tony’s shoulder bumps Bucky’s bicep as they walk. “But this is my way of saying I think I should just get to advance to level five.”

Tony snorts, “Of course it is.”

“Come on,” Bucky says, a touch whiny. “I really want the unredacted backstory.”

“I hate to break it to you, darling, but it’s going to be pretty boring.”

“I want it anyway.”

“Why?”

Bucky shrugs, “Because it’s you.”

Tony looks away, watching the passing cars. He aims for a joking tone as he says, “You know, if you keep saying things like that, I’ll have no choice but to fall in love with you.” 

He doesn’t say that he’s already there.

“Guess I’ll keep saying them, then,” Bucky grins. 

Tony swallows the lump in his throat and asks, “What do you wanna know?”

“Wait, are you actually promoting me? I’ve actually done it?”

“I never really expected to be this close with you,” Tony says, allowing himself a moment of total honesty. “I guess I thought you’d stop caring after a while, because I didn’t know why you’d care in the first place. Not a lot of people do.”

“I care about you a lot,” Bucky says quietly.

Tony smiles, “I know you do. And I trust you more than just about anyone. So yeah, you’re a level five. Congratulations on joining a group whose only other members are Pepper and Rhodey. Meetings are on Wednesdays.”

Bucky gets a soft look on his face, and this time he’s the one to look away. Tony asks the question again, “So, what do you wanna know? You’ve got the rights to everything now.”

Bucky has to pause to think about it, then he suggests, “Maybe we could work backwards on what I already know. Like, I know that you met Pepper and Rhodey in middle school after you moved, but I don’t know why you moved.”

Tony nods slowly, “Well, the official story is that my mom wanted to be closer to her family, but my dad needed to be in the city for his company, so my dad very generously bought a place upstate for my mom and I to live in permanently while my dad split his time.”

“And the unofficial story?” 

“My dad was having an affair with his secretary, and my mom found out.”

Bucky lets out a startled laugh, then quickly says, “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. That is not funny.” 

“It kind of is,” Tony says. “Pretty much the biggest cliche I can imagine. He didn’t really split his time, by the way. Visited sometimes, for holidays and stuff, but mostly to keep up the illusion for the press that he was a ‘family man.’” 

Bucky grimaces, “Alright, I can see why you didn’t want to talk about your family on day one. That’s maybe not something you tell a guy you just met.”

“I lied that day,” Tony confesses. When Bucky shoots him a confused look, he elaborates, “I told you that my parents dropped me off. They actually sent me off with their driver and barely said goodbye. You said they’d probably miss me like crazy, but we’ve only talked once since I’ve been here, and I was the one that had to make the call.”

There’s a bit of a weight that lifts at the admission. One less thing he’s keeping in. 

“I told my mom about you,” Bucky says. “Told her every detail, every story. You wanna know what she said?”

“What?”

“There’s always room for one more at Christmas.”

Bucky smiles while Tony’s face goes through the full range of emotion. Surprise, disbelief, happiness, doubt, awe.

“She smacked the back of my head when I told her that you spent Thanksgiving on campus and said I should’ve brought you home with me.” 

Tony laughs, “I would’ve liked to see that.”

“Come home with me for Christmas break and I’m sure you will.”

“Do you really want me there?” Tony asks. “You don’t have to invite me just because you think I’ll be lonely or whatever. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you’ll be fine, but you could be happy,” Bucky says. “You could come home with me and make Christmas cookies with my sisters. Drink real hot chocolate because my mom doesn’t believe in making it from powder. Watch movies with us on Christmas and play board games on New Year’s Eve. Fair warning that my sisters are all dirty cheats, though. But you cheated when we played Uno with Nat and Sam so you’ll fit right in.”

“You can’t cheat at Uno,” Tony argues. 

“You can, and you did,” Bucky shoots back. 

Tony rolls his eyes, but he softens again as he takes in the rest of Bucky’s offer. “It wouldn’t be weird? Having me there?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay,” Tony smiles. “I’d like that, then.”

“Good, because I think my mom would kill me if I came home without you this time.”

“Well, we can’t let that happen, can we? God only knows what kind of roommate I’d get stuck with next.”

Bucky hums, “I am a gem of a roommate. A one in a million kind of deal.”

A strong gust of wind hits them from behind, making Tony shiver. Bucky lets go of Tony’s hand to wrap it around Tony, rubbing his back up and down to generate friction.

“I was gonna suggest another lap, but do you wanna head back instead?”

Tony nods, teeth chattering through his flirty smile, “You might have to warm me up when we get there.”

“Another tough job,” Bucky says, dramatically sighing. “Not sure how I’ll manage this one.”

“You know, I hear the best way to stave off hypothermia is to take off your clothes when you huddle for warmth.”

Bucky laughs, “I didn’t know level five came with blatant come ons. I would’ve added it to the list.”

“It’s the natural progression after cuddling, darling.”

“Is it, though?”

Tony gives an affirmative hum, “Yeah, and there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“I hope they’re better than that one.”

Tony tries to jab him in the ribs with his elbow, but Bucky manages to sidestep the blow. 

“That one sucked and you know it,” Bucky laughs. “I’m not even sure it’s factually accurate.”

“Sure it is. Second law of thermodynamics.”

“Yeah, it works, sure. But I don’t know that you can claim it’s the  _ best  _ way.”

Tony gives him another suggestive look, “There is an easy way to find out.”

“You’re officially not allowed to talk anymore.”

“What? Why?” 

“I’m not strong enough to listen to this while you’re standing there looking like that in my clothes. My willpower is too low, and it’s gonna result in some major public indecency.” 

Tony laughs, head thrown back. The dorm is coming into sight, just down a little further the street, and Tony asks, “Can I say it once we’re inside then?”

Bucky takes a pause, seeming to sober a bit. “I still mean what I said before. About, you know, us.”

“I know,” Tony nods. He takes a minute to collect his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Kind of nonstop since it happened.”

“Yeah? What have you been thinking?”

“That I like you.” Tony swallows, looks towards the clouds on the horizon so he doesn’t have to look at Bucky’s face. “More than like you, really.”

The long silence almost makes Tony look over, but he can’t bring himself to do it. 

“And what about Steve?”

“Steve is -” Tony cuts off as they near the entrance of the dorm, eyes catching on an all too familiar sight. He stops dead in his tracks and gapes. “Steve is  _ here _ . Oh my God, why is Steve here?”

“What?” 

Tony feels like he hears Bucky’s question from underwater, and he’s drowning when Steve looks up and locks eyes with him. He straightens from where he was leaning against the wall next to the doors and takes a step toward Tony, a nervous smile on his face. 

"Hey, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise :)


	11. Chapter 11

Tony stands there, mouth open and eyes unblinking. Steve looks exactly the same as the last time Tony saw him. Same haircut, shortly cropped on the sides and a little longer on the top, sticking up without the help of any product. He’s perfectly clean shaven, not a trace of shadow on his jaw, just like always. The shirt he’s wearing is one Tony knows as well. His pants, too. Tony knows that if he looked closely, he could find the spot of orange paint on one of the belt loops. 

He doesn’t know how long he stares for - isn’t aware that he is staring until Bucky breaks him from his reverie. His voice sounds rough as he says, “I, uh, I guess I should give you a minute.”

Bucky starts to turn around, but Tony reaches out to grab his arm. “Where are you going?”

Bucky glances over Tony’s shoulder at Steve, then back to Tony. “You should go inside. It’s too cold out here.”

He walks away, hands buried in his pockets and head down against the wind. Tony watches him for a few seconds and almost follows him. But Steve would still be here when he got back. 

Steve seems to be watching Bucky’s retreating form as well when Tony looks back at him. It’s strange, Tony thinks, to realize that he can’t quite read the expressions on Steve’s face anymore. 

“What are you doing here, Steve?”

Steve’s gaze snaps back to him. 

“I needed to talk to you.” He almost can’t hear Steve’s quiet voice over the wind when he adds, “I missed you.”

Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks around them, hoping for an option other than taking him inside, but he knows there isn’t one. He walks by Steve and opens the door, holding it open behind himself until Steve receives the message and follows him in. 

They don’t speak as they climb the stairs. Tony doesn’t know what to say, and Steve seems to be waiting for it. Unlocking the door, Tony gestures for Steve to go inside first. 

He watches Steve take in the room. The photographs of their friends above Tony’s bed. Bucky’s collection of New York sports teams’ banners. The polaroid on Tony’s desk that Natasha took of him and Bucky on Halloween. 

Tony wonders how it must look to an outsider, the way the room no longer has distinct sides to it. Bucky’s backpack is next to Tony’s at the foot of his bed. Their clothes have mixed together into one hamper, now that they always do laundry together on Saturday nights. 

Steve gets stuck on the polaroid, not looking away from it until Tony clears his throat. 

“You wanted to talk, so talk.”

“How have you been?” Steve asks. 

“Wonderful,” Tony says dryly. “Why are you here?”

Steve sighs heavily, “I missed you.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Steve’s eyes flit around the room again. Tony isn’t sure he’s ever seen him nervous like this before. 

“I’m sorry.”

And he’s definitely never heard an apology from him before. He wonders if it should make him as angry as it does to hear one now.

“What for, Steve?”

“I shouldn’t have left you like that. It’s the worst thing that I’ve ever done, and I’ve regretted every day since.”

“That’s funny. Didn’t seem like you regretted it when you were hooking up with that girl. Seemed like you were pretty happy with her, actually.”

“I - it didn’t mean anything.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?”

Steve flinches, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to push back on that. Tony can tell that he doesn’t have an answer, and if he does he doesn’t want to hear it anyway.

“Look, can we just cut to the chase? What do you really want?”

“I told you, it was a mistake to break up with you.”

“Yeah, it was. And?”

“Will you just please hear me out?” Steve sounds frustrated, as if Tony is being problematic here somehow. What does it say about Tony that Steve was expecting this to be easy?

Tony bites his tongue against the instinct to tell him no, that he should leave. He waves his hand to tell him to talk. 

“I thought I was making it easier for both of us by ending it early. I figured the distance was going to be too hard, and we’d end up hating each other for it and break up anyway. I thought a clean break was better than that.”

“And you didn’t think that was something we should have talked about?” Tony questions. “You just single handedly made that decision for both of us like what I thought didn’t even matter.”

“I knew what you’d say.”

Tony scoffs at that. “Why can’t you just admit that you didn’t think our relationship was worth it?”

“That’s not true,” Steve argues. “And why are you acting like this was all my fault? We talked about UCLA for years. You were the one who changed that.”

“No,  _ you  _ talked about UCLA for years. You just thought that I’d follow you wherever you went.”

Steve falters for a moment. “You never said anything.”

“You never asked,” Tony says. He feels the anger slipping away, morphing into dejection. “You always acted like I was just supposed to want whatever you wanted. And when I didn’t, you’d get this look on your face like I’d just disappointed you. So I stopped saying things I knew you wouldn’t like.

“Maybe some of this is my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have bent for you every time you asked. But I would have done anything to make us work, and you just walked away like I never meant anything to you.”

“That’s not -” Steve starts, but Tony cuts him off.

“Don’t tell me that’s not what happened. It’s exactly what happened.”

“Sweetheart, please,” Steve says, a desperate edge to his voice. “I’m sorry for what I did. I would take it all back if I could, I swear. Just give me a chance to make it up to you.” 

Steve reaches out for him, but Tony takes a step back. He shakes his head, running his hand through his hair in frustration. 

“God, it’s just like you to come back the second I’m over you.”

“You’re - you’re over me?” 

Tony sighs, “Did you think I was just going to wait around for you to come back?”

Steve looks down at his shoes, and Tony realizes, “Oh my God, you did, didn’t you? You thought I’d still be heartbroken and take you back the second you asked. You thought you could just call me sweetheart and say you’re sorry and everything would be okay.”

“I thought you missed me, too,” Steve says loudly, almost shouting. 

“I did miss you,” Tony says. “I missed you while you were off with someone else. While you were ignoring my texts and acting like I didn’t exist anymore. But it’s been almost six months, Steve. I don’t miss you anymore.” 

“Is there -” Steve breaks off, swallows hard. “Is there any chance that we could make this work? I still love you.”

It’s surprisingly easy for Tony to say, “I don’t love you.”

Steve visibly recoils like he’s been slapped. 

“Is there someone else? That guy,” Steve points an accusatory finger to the polaroid, “are you with him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony says. 

Steve’s mouth twists. “So that’s a yes.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony repeats firmly. 

“He doesn’t know you. Not like I know you. Do you really think he’s going to make you as happy as I did?”

Tony takes a shaky breath, willing himself not to react to Steve’s anger. 

“It’s not about him, Steve. How I feel about him has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I didn’t need to fall in love with him to fall out of love with you. You made me stop loving you all by yourself.”

Steve’s face falls, and it hurts to see him break like that. But he can’t lie, and he can’t hurt himself to save Steve from hurting. He’s given up enough of himself for Steve already. 

“So this is it, then? This is how we end?” Steve asks, voice quiet. 

“We ended six months ago. There’s no changing it now.” 

“Why not? There’s no way you could ever love me again?”

At Tony’s silence, Steve nods slowly and looks around the room again, as if taking it in for the last time. 

“I guess I should go then,” he says. 

“You should,” Tony agrees. 

Steve nods again and moves to the door. He turns back with his hand on the doorknob, hesitating briefly before saying, “For whatever it’s worth, I’ll never stop loving you.”

Tony smiles softly, “You will. And that’s okay.” 

Steve gives him one last lingering look, and then the door is shutting behind him. Tony stares at it for a while as the last few minutes fully sink in. He breathes in deeply, counts to ten, and lets it go. 

Sitting down on his bed, he waits for Bucky to come back so he can finish what he started. 

It gets progressively darker outside as he waits. Eventually, he stands and paces the short length of the room, phone clutched in his hand as he debates calling. He tells himself “five more minutes” twenty times. 

By the time Tony hears the key turn in the lock, the light outside is gone. Bucky walks in, eyes fixed on the floor, and when he looks up, there’s surprise on his face.

“Where’s Steve?”

Tony frowns, “Airport, hopefully.”

“He’s - you didn’t,” Bucky trails off, but the question is clear anyway.

“No, I didn’t,” Tony says.

“Why not?” The question is spoken softly, hopeful. 

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Bucky smiles, “Will you tell me anyway?”

Tony steps forward until the space between them is gone. Bucky’s cheek is cold when he holds it in his hand. His lips are even colder against Tony’s own. 

He kisses him slowly, takes his time memorizing the details. The weight of Bucky’s hands on his waist, the subtle bite from spearmint gum on his tongue, the contours of Bucky’s jaw under his palm. 

They break apart slowly, too. Neither of them seem willing to end the moment, but Tony knows there are still words that need to be spoken. 

“You aren’t the guy I’m with just because Steve’s not around.”

“Yeah, I think I got that message,” Bucky says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Seeing as you just turned him down and all.”

Tony laughs, “Shut up, I’m trying to say something.”

Bucky mimes locking his lips and tossing the key over his shoulder. He immediately leans in and gives Tony a short, sweet kiss, as if to prove he doesn’t need words to be thoroughly distracting. 

“I don’t love him anymore. I think it’s been a while since I did, but I just didn’t know how to let it go. Seeing him again just confirmed that I don’t want him back.”

Bucky nods and presses a kiss to Tony’s cheek. Another one lands on his jaw, then on the side of his neck. He murmurs into Tony’s skin, “And what about me?” 

“Oh, did you miss that part of the message?” It comes out a little breathless as Bucky’s hand slips under his sweatshirt. 

Bucky hums, and Tony can feel the vibration against the hollow of his throat as he places another kiss there. 

“Might need a replay. You know, just to make sure I got it right.”

Tony uses a finger under Bucky’s chin to tilt his head up, then kisses him again. 

“Did you get it this time?” Tony whispers.

Bucky grins, “Loud and clear, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left! Thank you so much for everyone's comments/kudos/subscriptions!


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for the epilogue!

“Please tell me that’s the last one,” Tony says as Bucky sets down yet another moving box onto the hardwood floor of their bedroom. He’s sitting on the floor, wrist deep in a different box, and Bucky drops himself down next to him. 

“It is. Truck’s emptied out.”

Bucky drapes himself over Tony’s back, placing a kiss on the nape of his neck. Tony swats at Bucky’s arm as it wraps around his torso. “Gross. You’re all sweaty.”

Bucky tightens his hold, twining his legs with Tony’s and rubbing his sweaty cheek against Tony’s hair while Tony laughs and squirms in his arms. 

“Okay, okay,” Tony says, out of breath. Bucky’s arms loosen, and Tony leans back against his chest. His head falls onto Bucky’s shoulder, and he tilts his chin up in a silent request for a kiss that Bucky obliges. 

“Whatcha got here?” Bucky asks, jutting his chin toward the box.

Tony pulls it closer to continue going through it. The box is mostly full of memories - ticket stubs from the movie they saw on their second date, the strip of pictures they took at the photobooth in the arcade, the baseball Bucky caught at a Red Sox game and immediately gave to Tony. Admittedly, Tony stopped working on actually unpacking a while ago, shortly after he opened the box and got caught up in reliving the last three and a half years. 

Tony pulls out the stack of polaroids and laughs at the picture on top. He gave Bucky the camera for their first Christmas together after Bucky mentioned that he liked the one Natasha had and the stack in his hand is only a small fraction of all the ones he’s taken since then. The one on top is from the day he got it. It’s a slightly blurry attempt at a selfie, with a quarter of Bucky’s face cut out of the frame. They’re at Bucky’s childhood home in Brooklyn, wearing matching pajamas that Bucky’s mom insisted on for Christmas morning. His little sisters all had the same set, and Tony couldn’t believe at first that he was included like that. 

“Do you remember this?” Tony asks, holding up the picture for Bucky to see. 

Bucky grins, “Of course I do. You cried like four times that day.”

“I did not! Those were allergies!”

“Oh, yeah, must’ve been all that famous winter pollen. Had nothing to do with my mom saying she was keeping you, or Rebecca calling you her new favorite brother, or that card -”

“The card had baby otters on it!” Tony interjects. “How could I not cry at that?”

Bucky laughs, and Tony continues flipping through the polaroids. The two of them at an MIT football game. Tony standing next to his first successful learning bot, built during sophomore year. Sam, Nat, and Clint at their graduation last year. A candid shot of Tony on their first anniversary, laughing at the ice skating rink. 

Eventually the stack comes to an end, and Tony sets them aside to pull other keepsakes from the box. They lose themselves in the memories for a while, telling stories and reminiscing over cheap carnival prizes and homemade glittery Valentine’s cards. 

At the bottom of the box is a folded piece of paper that makes Tony pause. It’s been a long time since it hung on their dorm room wall, right above Bucky’s pillow. They took it off the wall at the end of freshmen year, delicately folded over the tape, and put it away for safekeeping, but he hasn’t seen it since. 

He unfolds it with care and reads the list again.

“Remember how you said I’d never make it to level three?” Bucky asks, voice quiet next to Tony’s ear.

Tony smiles, “It did seem unlikely at the time.”

“Maybe to you, doll,” Bucky says, “but there was never a doubt in my mind that we were going to end up here.”

“In this apartment specifically? That’s pretty impressive foresight.”

Bucky laughs, “Shut up, I’m being romantic.”

Tony reaches behind himself to cup Bucky’s cheek, tilting his face down at the same time Tony leans up so he can kiss him. 

“I love you,” Bucky whispers. 

“I love you, too,” Tony says. He turns back to the piece of paper in his hand. It’s weird to think there was ever a time when he was afraid to let Bucky know him, that he once put up walls to keep out the person that now knows him best. 

“There really should’ve been something after level five,” Bucky says. “I mean, I haven’t gotten upgraded in years, but I’ve definitely been earning the points.”

“Yeah, but these are friendship levels and those are boyfriend points.”

Bucky hums, considering. “What do boyfriend points get me?”

“Sex,” Tony says matter-of-factly, making Bucky laugh.

“Okay, yeah, that’s definitely better than another level.”

Refolding the paper, Tony adds it back to the pile of mementos and stands from the floor with a sigh. He holds out his hand for Bucky to take and says, “Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

They get started on the boxes of clothing, sorting items into drawers and into the closet. They’ve moved together so many times that it’s like an old dance - in and out of dorms the first two years, then to their off-campus apartment, and finally here, to their small Manhattan apartment. They’re here to stay this time. Tony has a job at a tech startup beginning in a few days, and Bucky’s in the last stages of the interview process for his new job. Bucky’s nervous about it, but Tony knows without a doubt that he’ll get it. Anyone would be lucky to have him. 

Tony’s finishing hanging clothes in the closet when Bucky says, “Oh, hey, I think we missed something in that box.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” 

Tony turns around and easily catches the object Bucky tosses at him. He turns over the small red box in his hand, frowning when he doesn’t recognize it. 

“What is -” 

He breaks off when he looks up and finds Bucky in front of him on one knee.

“I hope you don’t mind that this is a little bit improvised,” Bucky says. “I’ve been carrying around that box for a while now trying to think of how to do this right. But all those memories got me thinking about the lifetime new ones I want to make with you, and I just can’t wait any longer.”

Bucky takes the box from his shaking hand, opening it to reveal a silver ring. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart, and I want more than anything to be your husband. Will you marry me?”

Tears are blurring Tony’s vision, and his knees are suddenly so weak that he doesn’t exactly kneel in front of Bucky, it’s more like falling instead. 

Tony kisses him hard, the resounding  _ yes  _ echoing in every press of his lips. Bucky holds him tightly, the ring box pressing into his lower back as his hands clutch at Tony as desperately as Tony is holding onto him. He can feel Bucky’s heartbeat against his own, and it’s mystifying to think that he’ll always get to have this. 

He kisses him until they’re both breathless, then kisses him once more. They break apart only by an inch, foreheads pressed together. 

“Is that a yes?” Bucky asks in a whisper. 

Tony gets a flashback to three and a half years ago. To another breathless kiss and a question. 

“Oh, did you not get that message?”

Bucky grins, so bright it’s blinding, “Might need a replay.”

A softer kiss this time, with every ounce of love he has poured into it. 

“How about now?” Tony asks, his smile matching his fiance's. 

“Loud and clear, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly grateful for every single kudos, comment, bookmark, and subscriber! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!
> 
> If you want, feel free to message me on my tumblr so we can talk about this fic or anything else :)


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